


Beneath the Mango Tree

by owlways_and_forever



Series: Better Together [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Bullying, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts First Year, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Physical Abuse, Sorting Ceremony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning in 1965, when the Marauders are all 5 years old, we follow them until the end of their first year at Hogwarts. Part 1 of 4 in the Better Together series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1965, Godric's Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're reading this story, and you want to see how I kind of picture the characters, you can check out my fancast at owlways-and-forever.tumblr.com/marauders-fancast. It's not complete, but I update it as I find people I like to fill the spots, so you can check that out. Or just imagine it in your head if you prefer!

Edward and Margaret Potter of Godric Hollow were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Edward had inherited a large fortune from his grandfather, who had served as Minister for Magic some time ago, so the Potter family lived in considerable comfort. Yes, that’s right, though the Potters were perfectly normal, they were not what you and I might consider the definition of the term, for Edward and Margaret Potter were wizards. In fact, both came from a long line of magic families, and there were even some rumors that Edward was descended from the ancient Peverell family in the tale of the Deathly Hallows.

Edward had increased his family’s fortune tenfold with his series of spells and devices that he had invented to aid the capture of dangerous wizards by the Auror office, and though the he now had more money than he knew what to do with, he continued to work for the Ministry of Magic. Margaret had not worked since marrying Edward some years ago, and spent her time at home taking care of their only son, James, who, at five years old, was already quite a handful.

James Albert Potter was a spoiled, rambunctious little boy with messy black hair and a permanent grin that gave the illusion of being up to something (which he usually was). He was already tall for his age, and Margaret Potter proudly boasted to anyone who would listen that he would be six feet and very handsome. The woman seemed completely in denial of any wrongdoings on behalf of her son or personality flaws he might possess, considering him to be her perfect little angle. As such, he got anything he wanted, including the small children’s racing broom he was currently pointing to through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies while on a shopping trip with his mother.

“James, darling,” she crooned, rustling his hair, “we just bought you a broomstick for Christmas last year.”

“But Mother,” he whined, tugging at her respectable black robes, “this one is loads better! It’s faster, and it can make hairpin turns! It’s the best one available!”

“Well, I suppose you have gotten a bit big for the other one,” she considered, dragging her thumb across her son's cheek to wipe away the remnants of the afternoon’s chocolate ice cream. “Your toes are nearly dragging on the ground these days, and we can’t have that. No, I suppose we had better get it.”

With a smile, she motioned towards the door, and James sped toward it, wrenching it open and darting inside without a backward glance. Margaret shook her head fondly and followed the little boy inside, extracting her wallet from her fashionable dragon-hide purse as she went.

The two of them return home late in the evening laden with bags, and James begrudgingly helped his mother carry them to the house before tearing out into the garden with his new broomstick. Margaret found Septimia, their house elf, making dinner in the kitchen, and enlisted her to carry the bags upstairs and make sure all the belongings were put away correctly. She then went the sitting room and picked up the book she had been reading this week, settling down on the sofa until she heard Edward arrive home.

“How was work, dear?” Margaret Potter asked as she stood to greet her husband, placing a swift kiss on his cheek.

“Just the usual, my dear, nothing out of the ordinary,” Edward replied, sitting down on the settee next to his wife. “What time will dinner be ready?”

“Pardon me, sir and madam, but dinner is ready now if you wishes it,” piped up the small voice of Septimia as she stood in the doorway to the sitting room.

“Excellent,” Edward answered, pushing himself to his feet with some effort, the

“I’ll go fetch James,” Margaret offered, gliding down the hall and out to the yard, where she called for her son, the two of them returning after a moment.

“Wash your hands, please, sir,” Septimia chimed to James, and he obeyed without hesitation.

“What did you get up to today, son?” Edward addressed James as they sat down at the table, James situated between his parents, who sat on either end.

“Mother and I went to Diagon Alley,” he answered politely, “and then I practiced flying. I want to play for the Tornadoes one day!”

“Yes, so you’ve said,” his father chuckles, and Margaret tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “You’ll have to work very hard for that.”

“I know,” James replies happily, swinging his feet under the table.

They enjoy a lovely dinner of steak, roast potatoes, carrots, and peas, with a dessert of freshly made peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream. Afterward, James practiced playing the piano for half an hour before being sent to bed, though he stays up late, looking at the pictures in a Quidditch magazine he had nicked that afternoon.

So go the days for five year old James Potter – lessons in the morning, lunch, Quidditch in the afternoon, dinner, piano practice, then bed. He has anything money can buy, which doesn’t include friends. There are not many other children his age in Godric’s Hollow, and the ones who do live in the village shy away from the spoiled boy, leaving him to play on his own. He doesn’t even realize what he’s missing, though, perfectly content for the moment to practice flying on his own, or play pranks on his parents and the house elf.


	2. 1965, Ilkley

Lyall and Hope Lupin had no pretenses of being normal, not that they minded one bit. They lived in a small cottage in the wizard village of Ilkley, a happy family with their five year old son, Remus, and their baby daughter, Zeva. They were a bit eccentric – Lyall was an expert on nonhuman spiritual apparitions, and frequently conversed on the fascinations of poltergeists and boggarts, enjoying nothing more than making his family laugh with tales of the antics of the mischievous poltergeists he had encountered. Hope had worked in an insurance office until she met Lyall, though now she worked as an occasional consultant to the Muggle Relations office of the Ministry of Magic, helping them to understand how best to interact with nonmagic individuals (like herself).

Remus was a quiet, studious boy. At five years old, he was already reading, which had surprised both of his parents greatly. He delighted in his father’s stories, memorizing fact after fact about the creatures he was told about, and when he knew it all, he looked up new creatures on his own, proudly presenting the information over dinner to the delight of his parents. And he loved his little sister more than anything, asking every night if he could rock her to sleep and they always let him. He would whisper stories of unicorns and phoenixes and other fantastic beasts to her, saying it would give her good dreams.

Lyall had taken a job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures bureau within the Ministry, and he left each morning with a kiss on the forehead for each of his children, and one on the lips for the wife he adored. This particular day was no different. He twisted on his front stoop, disappearing into thin air and arriving a moment later in the lobby of the Ministry, where he made his way to the golden elevators that would taken him to his office. He glanced over his calendar, checking the schedule of events for the day, and saw that his first appointment was at eleven o’clock – the examination of one Fenrir Greyback for a case involving the death of two muggle children. He flicked through the paperwork, familiarizing himself with the details, and before he knew it, the clock on his wall was chiming quarter til.

Lyall Lupin grabbed the file hastily, pushing his glasses farther up his nose, and hurried back towards the elevator and down to the first floor, where a series of chambers were set up for depositions and the like. He was part of a committee of five interviewing this man, all respected colleagues, but he had a strange feeling in his gut. Something about this case felt wrong.

The two girls had be found ripped to shreds, with large claw marks all over their small bodies, but something had triggered the Ministry’s alarms to detect magic in front of muggles. When officials had arrived, they had found this man about two blocks away from the bodies, running as though his life depended on it. Now, he sat in a small room, in a chair with glowing chains wrapped around the arms, wriggling slowly as though threatening to envelop the man’s arms too, should he make a wrong move. Lyall entered the chamber and took the last remaining seat across from Greyback, and Marmaduke Goffe, the lead interrogator, nodded to him before beginning.

“Mr. Greyback,” Goffe asked, his pen poised to take notes, “would you please state your status for the record.”

“What do you mean, my status?” the man replied, his voice low, like a growl.

“Are you a wizard, a squib, or a muggle?” Goffe clarified.

“I dunno what any of those words mean,” Greyback answered, though he didn’t look confused to Lyall at all, “but I can’t do magic, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Thank you,” Goffe continued. “Now would you please explain the events of the night in question.”

“Look, I don’t know nothing, alright? I was walking about, minding me own business, and I saw this great big animal, might’ve been a bear, or a wolf, I couldn’t really tell, it was dark. But it looked to be eating something, something big, I figured a deer, and I was going to just skirt by, but then it looked straight at me, and I just bloody ran for it. And that’s when you lot snagged me.”

The other members of the council looked at each other, but Lyall remained focused on Greyback, remembering what Remus had told him about werewolves at dinner the other night. _Werewolves, in their human form, age faster than normal people. Did you know that, Daddy?_ Remus has asked him, and Lyall had been forced to admit that he did not. He looked then at the man sitting in front of him, who had claimed to be only twenty-five, but looked to be closer to thirty. _In the days leading up to a full moon, and for a few days after, they look really pale and sweaty and sick, like when you had the flu last year, Daddy._ Lyall looked closer at Greyback, noting that he did indeed look a little peaky, and he tried to remember when the last full moon was; he thought they were expected to have one that night. _Sometimes they have scars from where they attack themselves if there aren’t people around._ He noted a long, pink scar trailing down Greyback’s neck that could easily be from a claw, and what looked like bite marks near his wrists.

“Right then,” Goffe spoke up, “I see no reason to suspect –“ Lyall watched a smile start to creep over Greyback’s face and noted that the exposed teeth were filed to points.

“He’s lying,” Lyall interjected forcefully, and Greyback’s smile faltered as Goffe spluttered and turned to look at his colleague. “He’s a werewolf.” Greyback snarled at the statement, but the voices of the four other interrogators drowned it out.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lyall,” Goffe scoffed, “you have no proof of that.”

“My son told me of symptoms, they all fit,” Lyall started, but he was cut off by another colleague.

“Your son is five years old, you expect us to believe him?”

“He’s a very intelligent boy,” he argued, feeling his temper rising quickly. “Look, where I got the information is beside the point, what matters is that he fits all the descriptions!”

“You’re being absurd, Lyall,” Goffe scolded, his tone brooking no argument, but Lyall was fuming already.

“What else could have don’t that to those poor children, Marmaduke?” he shouted, rapidly losing control. “Werewolves are soulless, they’re evil! They deserve nothing but death! And now you’ve got one sitting in front of you, having just slaughtered two innocent muggle children, and you want to _let him go_?”

“Perhaps you should go home early, Lyall,” Goffe spoke, quietly, though it was clear that it was far from a suggestion. “You are clearly unwell today.”

His chest heaving, Lyall gathered up his belongings and stormed out, past a snarling Greyback, through the Ministry to the lobby, where he apparated back home, feeling very riled up.

“Lyall, darling!” Hope exclaimed when he walked through the front door. “What on earth are you doing home so early?”

“Just a bad day at work, sweetheart, nothing to worry about,” Lyall answered with a quick kiss on her cheek, but Hope was still concerned. Given that Remus was seated at the kitchen table and Zeva was asleep in her arms, she said nothing more, but gave her husband a look stating that she expected him to explain later.

“What fascinating creature have you been studying today, Remus?” he asked, sitting in the chair next to his son and extending his arms for the baby so Hope could whip together another sandwich.”

“Grindylows!” the boy chirped happily, taking a bit bite out of his peanut butter and jelly. “Did you know that some merpeople keep them as pets?”

“No, I didn’t that’s fascinating. I suppose it would require a dangerous half-breed to tame those beasts,” Lyall answered, and the boy frowned almost imperceptibly at his father’s prejudice.

Some time later in the afternoon, Lyall received an owl from Marmaduke Goffe informing him that Fenrir Greyback had escaped en route to having his memory modified, and he was believed to be exceedingly dangerous. Lyall stayed in his small little office upstairs for the rest of the day, pouring over book after book, looking for more proof that Greyback was what he suspected. When Hope called him down for dinner, he was unusually subdued, hardly saying anything at all when Remus prompted him with more Grindylow facts. They put the children to bed early and he paced the living room, muttering protective enchantments under his breath, and Hope sat on the sofa, watching with a concerned expression. When he felt satisfied, he let out a deep sigh, and took his wife’s hand, smiling in a reassuring way as they made their way up to bed. He hadn’t counted on his son getting hot in the night and opening his window, inviting in trouble.

Remus wakes to a snarling noise coming from the darkest corner of his room, and he sits up in bed, his little heart beating fast, the sound of it echoing in the silence. The snarling gets louder as a wolf steps forward into the weak light filtering in from the moon, but it’s not an ordinary wolf, the boy can see that right away. This wolf had a shorter snout, matted grey fur, pale, human-like grey eyes, and a dark, tufted grey tail, and as his lips pulled up over his teeth in a growl, Remus saw saliva hanging from the sharp canines, and he shivered, scooting back on his bed. As the werewolf inched forward, Remus let out a small whimper, pulling his blanket up to his chin, hoping the werewolf would leave him alone and knowing it wouldn’t. He wracked his brain, going through all the facts he had learned – screaming would make it attack sooner; only the teeth had the power to transmit lycanthropy, the claws could still kill though; they were much stronger and faster than an average wolf – but nothing he could remember helped in any way. The werewolf lunged, and Remus put his arms up to protect his face, inadvertently exposing his torso. He felt the skin around his ribs puncture, and let out a scream, pain blinding him. The door to his room banged open as another burst of pain ripped through him, and Remus was barely able to make out the shape of his father, wand out, shooting spells at the werewolf. There was no telling how long it took, how many spells, but his father won, sending the werewolf flying out the window with a howl, and Lyall ran to where his son lay bleeding on his bed.

“Dad,” Remus croaked, tears flowing freely, “powdered silver and dittany, daddy,” he whispered, and he closed his eyes, everything going dark.

Remus woke in his parents’ bed, bright sunlight streaming through the window and pain blossoming in his side. His father sat in a chair next to him, looking very haggard, as though he had been awake all night, and his mother paced the room, attempting to soothe his baby sister.

“Teeth or claws?” Remus asked, his voice very hoarse. “Daddy? Teeth or claws?”

Lyall didn’t respond, just gave his son a sad look and dropped his head to his hands, feeling so guilty. Remus knew then – teeth. Maybe both, but definitely teeth. His head fell backward onto the pillow and he cried.

 

\---

Note on etymology: Zeva is taken from the Hebrew z’ev, meaning wolf


	3. 1965, London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence, domestic abuse, child abuse.

Orion and Walburga Black were a rather snobbish sort of folk, constantly holding their heads up high and reminding everyone around them that they were high society, wealthy, pureblood wizards. They had two sons, one whom they adored, and one whom Walburga in particular felt was a constant disappointment. In fact, those who did not know the family well might think they only had one child, such was the disproportionate amount of affection the Blacks felt toward their younger son.

Sirius Phinneas Black was the older of the two boys, with a mop of curly black hair that hung over his grey eyes. His mother was always trying to cut it, but it grew resolutely back overnight, making him smile broadly and driving her mad. _Such a hairstyle was not appropriate for a member of the Black family_ , she would tell him, and he would be sent to his room without supper that night. He was quite rebellious, little Sirius, always doing precisely the opposite of what his parents told him. He didn’t like his little brother very much, either.

Perfect little Regulus, who could do no wrong, always got what he wanted. The four year old was spoiled beyond belief, all it ever took was a few (fake) tears for his mother to break down and buy him whatever he desired.

“I want it!” Regulus yelled at his brother one afternoon, pointing to the little dragon toy Sirius was holding in his palm.

“It’s mine,” Sirius replied, pulling his arm away from the younger boy’s outstretched hand. “You’ll only break it.”

“But I want it!” Regulus shouted again, pouting petulantly. Not that his pouts ever did anything to sway his older brother.

“Go play with one of your own toys,” Sirius told him, pushing him away lightly, and the little boy fell to the floor purposely, wailing in imagined pain.

“Regulus, what in Merlin’s…?” A stern looking man with a vest over his button down and slacks had burst into the room at the noise, glancing from one boy to the other. “Boys. What’s going on here?”

“H-he p-pushed me,” Regulus sobs before Sirius can answer, and the other boy just looks at his father slack jawed.

“Is that true?” Orion Black asked his older son, his already stern face growing even more so.

“No!” Sirius pleaded, his heart sinking. “He was trying to take my toy, and I just – well, I pushed him away a little bit, but not hard! He fell all on his own!”

“He’s a little kid, Sirius, you ought to know better than that.”

“He’s only a year younger than me!” Sirius argued, his temper flaring.

“Sirius Phinneas Black, do not give me lip,” Orion warned, his own temper beginning to get the better of him.

“I wasn’t –“ He was still speaking when a large hand swung and hit him in the back of the head, and he winced audibly.

“What did I tell you?” Orion asked, his face flushed with red. Little Sirius stared down at the floor, trying to hide the tears building behind his eyes, while Regulus looked on, not quite smiling, but not dismayed either. “Give your brother the toy.”

“But –“ Sirius started, but another blow to the head stopped him instantly.

“I said, give your brother the toy,” Orion commanded, and Sirius dropped the little dragon on the carpet, the tears that had been welling up starting to fall freely. “Are you crying, boy?” Orion questioned, his tone disgusted.

Sirius shook his head violently, black curls flying every which way.

“Get upstairs,” the large man ordered, giving Sirius a shove and sending him bumping into the doorjamb, hard enough to leave a mark. “NOW!”

Sirius scrambled up the stairs as fast as he could, choking back the tears until he was in his room, the door shut firmly as he slid down to the floor with his back against it. Then he let the tears come freely, his head in one hand as he rubbed his arm with the other. Not for the first time in his life, Sirius Black wished he was anywhere but at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, with any other family in the world.


	4. 1965, Whitby

Murphy and Isadora Pettigrew led a quiet, humble sort of life. She was a teacher in a public school and he was an accountant, and the led a rather boring life together with their son. Except Isadora had a secret, a very nasty secret, and she was quite hopeful that it would never come out, as she was rather worried it would ruin her perfectly pleasant, if a little dull, life. She had never told her husband that she was a witch, and she worked very hard to make sure he didn’t find out.

Peter Spencer Pettigrew, at five years old, showed no signs of magic, appearing to be a perfectly normal little boy. He was a pit pudgy, not fat exactly, but soft, with chubby round cheeks and watery little eyes. His dirty blond hair always looked a little dingy, a little grey, like he was aging prematurely, and he was quite short for his age. Peter was a sickly little boy, often out of school for illness, and it took its toll, leaving him with a pale, sweaty complexion even when he wasn’t sick.

A week earlier, Peter had walked in on his mother using her wand to repair a broken dish, and grabbed it from her hand, waving it about gleefully. The flurry of movement had caused a spell to shoot from the end, hitting poor Peter directly in the face and causing his nose and mouth the elongate and form into a rat’s snout. Panicking, Isadora had apparated directly to St. Mungo’s Hospital with the young boy, and they had been able to restore his face to normal quite quickly.

It appeared, however, that Peter had become infected with something while at St. Mungo’s, and Isadora was stricken, trying both to treat him and keep her husband from noticing the boy’s increasingly unusual symptoms. It had started a few days earlier with only a very faint green tinge and a few bumps on the skin, and she had tried to tell Murphy that it must just be an unusual case of chicken pox, but that excuse was no longer going to work.

Peter’s skin was now an electric green, his entire body covered in the itchy purple pox. Worst of all, when he sneezed, sparks seemed to fly from his nose. Isadora tried all the muggle remedies she could think of, in denial that her son’s malady was anything out of the ordinary, but she was quickly beginning to despair. From up in her son’s bedroom, where she was trying desperately to feel him soup, Isadora heard the front door slam shut.

“Darling?” Murphy’s voice called to her, and she stayed silent, hoping that if she didn’t answer, he would think they had gone out, perhaps to a doctor.

Footsteps sounded heavily on the creaky stairs, and she prayed that he was just going to their bedroom to lie down, or change is clothes, anything. _Just don’t come in here_. Luck was not on her side, however, as the door to Peter’s bedroom swung open, Murphy standing staring at their son with complete and utter bewilderment. To make matters worse, Peter chose that particular moment to let out a violent cough, a burst of flames erupting from his mouth and crackling in the air.

“What the devil is wrong with our son?” Murphy exclaimed, his eyes wide, unable to believe what he saw.

“Its – well, I – oh, it’s Dragon Pox,” Isadora finally sighed, feeling very much defeated.

“Sorry, what?” Murphy asked, blinking in confusion.

“Dragon Pox,” Isadora stated matter-of-factly.

“What – what are Dragon Pox?”

“It’s the wizarding equivalent of chicken pox, darling,” Isadora answered, trying to sound as though this were a completely normal thing to say.

“The wizarding…? What?” he spluttered. “Izz, you’re not making sense.”

“I’m a witch, Murphy, darling,” she explained, smiling hesitantly, “and this is one of the diseases I grew up with.”

“You’re a…?”

“Witch, yes,” she repeated, trying not to lose her patience.

“Is he going to be alright?” Murphy asked, turning his attention back to the sick little boy.

“Well, I really think I should probably take him to the hospital,” Isadora answered, her brows knitted together in concern.

“The hospital knows how to treat this?” he replied, surprised.

“No, no, of course not, don’t be silly. The wizard hospital, St. Mungo’s.”

“St. –“ Murphy repeated, trying to comprehend the entire situation.

“Help me pick him up, darling,” Isadora instructed, and Murphy did so obediently.

“How do we get there?” Murphy asked, trying to remain composed while he felt like a floundering fish out of water.

“We? You needn’t come,” she answered, trying to protect him, but coming of a bit tart.

“What do you mean I needn’t come?” he bristled. “I am his father, after all.”

“I’m aware, darling, I was there,” Isadora snaps in response. “There’s just, there’s all sorts of oddities there, Murph, and I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Bit late for that,” he mumbled under his breath, but Isadora heard and turned to give him a very stern glare. “I insist on coming with you,” he stated, and she just sighed in resignation.

“Fine then, you carry Peter.”

Murphy takes the boy once more and carries him down the stairs, lying him down across the back seat of the car. The two adults get into the front seats, and Isadora directs her husband where to drive. About an hour and a half away, in Leeds, she knows there’s a building set up that magically transports them to the London hospital – just open the door, step through, and find yourself in the emergency room of St. Mungo’s, and she figures it is the least traumatic way to get her husband to the hospital. He needn’t know he was actually traveling all the way to London, at least not yet.

They pulled up to a decrepit looking shop front sandwiched between two other stores, and Murphy Pettigrew gave it a wary look.

“This is the hospital?” he asked suspiciously.

“The outside is enchanted,” she lied easily, “to detract attention. The inside is much different.” Murphy nodded, accepting her words.

They parked and clambered out of the car, Murphy taking little Peter in his arms and carrying him once more. They were ushered through the waiting room quickly, owing to the boy’s infectiousness, and into a private room, where they waited almost an hour to see one of the Healers. They were given a large supply of potion and told to give the boy one spoonful every six hours, and to return to the hospital if he hadn’t improved in a week. The drive home was quiet, Isadora fidgeting nervously and Murphy brooding, trying to process all the information he had learned that day. He carried Peter upstairs once more and laid the boy in his bed, and then the two of them had the row of the century, which Peter, sleeping soundly in his room under the healing effects of the potion, heard none of.


	5. 1968, Godric's Hollow

James Potter lay under a weeping willow tree in the park near his house, the long branches shading him from the summer heat. He heard voices floating across the grass, the sound of other children playing, and for a moment he toyed with going to join them. In the time it took for him to deliberate, the others drew close enough for him to decipher their words, and what he heard made his heart plummet.

“Did you see Potter this morning?” came the voice of a young boy James recognized as Albert Runcorn, a mean kid a year older than James. “Flying his broom around, he looked like a dying hippogriff.”

The other children laughed, and James ducked his head, wiping at the tears that started to prick his eyes.

“God, I hope he tries out for the Quidditch team, that’d be a riot,” Runcorn continued to the chorus of more laughter.

James clenched his fists as he fought back the urge to leap out from his hiding spot and punch Runcorn, who was much larger than he was, in the mouth.

“And his parents, my god, they’re _ancient_ ,” Runcorn laughed, “no wonder Potter’s like a miniature old person with his stiff robes and his classical music.”

The laughter and Runcorn’s voice faded as the other children walked away, and James took off, running through the park and then the town as fast as he could, the speed whisking the tears off his face. After a few minutes, he reached the library, which housed a small section on music, both wizarding and muggle alike. He poured over books, listening to sample records of whatever the library had on file, and wrote down the names of several artists.

_**Jimi Hendrix** _

_**Earth** _

_**The New Yardbirds** _

_**The Beatles** _

_**Jethro Tull** _

_**The Rolling Stones** _

_**The Velvet Underground** _

_**Pink Floyd** _

_**Grateful Dead** _

_**The Who** _

_**A Bludger to the Head** _

_**Elzevir** _

_**Hogwarts Trainwreck** _

_**Snidget** _

James ran back to his house, list clutched tightly in his hand, and burst into the kitchen, frightening poor Septimia so badly she fell off her kitchen stool.

“Sept, I have to go to a Muggle clothing store,” James stated, taking the house elf by surprise.

“Why, young Master Potter?” she replied, wiping her small, leathery hands on her apron.

“Clothes, Sept, clothes!” he burst, and she shook her head slightly.

“Young Master Potter is having plenty of robes,” Septimia answered, turning to go back to her cooking.

“Not robes, I need regular clothes, cool clothes,” James said, stomping his foot when the house elf shook her head resolutely, large ears flapping. “Please?”

“You can talk to Master and Mistress Potter when they is returning,” she confirmed, crossing her arms over her little chest.

“Mother and Father won’t understand,” James whined, reaching out for the house elf, “only you do.”

The small house elf regarded him carefully for a moment before letting out a small huff of displeasure and shaking the boy’s hands off her arms.

“Fine, Septimia will take the young Master Potter to Muggle London for some clothes,” she sighed, and James jumped up with glee, giving her a hug that made her most uncomfortable.

James vaulted up the stairs to his bedroom, where he exchanged his robes for a pair of slacks and a crisp white button down (the closest thing to a Muggle outfit he had), while Septimia gathered some Muggle money stored in a desk drawer for emergencies and cast a glamour over herself so she could go unnoticed.

They apparated to Camden Town in London, where James had a field day going through the shops, talking to the clerks about the best bands and adding to his list, and buying at least one shirt for each of his new favourite bands, and by the end of the day, he returns home with Septimia dressed in grungy jeans, a black t-shirt with the cover of Pink Floyd’s newly released _Saucerful of Secrets_ on the front, and a bag full of records to listen to (with his very own record player).

Every day for the rest of the summer, James blares rock music through the Potter house, or out in the yard where he runs Quidditch drills, committed to improving, and to proving himself, to making Albert Runcorn eat his words. He gets better, until his parent’s agree to sign him up for a little league team in the fall, and he begs them to let him learn to play the drums as well as the piano, though they compromise by getting him guitar lessons (which Margaret and Edward Potter later regretted when they were kept up late at night by the noise of James practicing). And eventually, it stops being pretend, this new persona of his, and starts being his real identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- In 1969, Earth realized they were being mistaken for another band by the same name, and consequently changed their name to Black Sabbath.  
> \- The New Yardbirds began the year 1968 billed as such, and played their first gig billed under their new name, Led Zeppelin, on October 25, 1968.  
> \- Pink Floyd’s A Saucerful of Secrets was released on June 29, 1968 in the UK.  
> \- I borrowed the names of some known wrock bands from the harrypotter.wikia page, but I don’t have the rights to the names or histories of said bands.


	6. 1968, Upper Flagley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so first of all, I hope everyone who's reading this story is enjoying it, I'm loving writing this piece. Second of all, I just went through this morning and added my marauder's era fancast to my blog, so if anyone reading this wants to see how I imagine the characters, you can go to owlways-and-forever.tumblr.com/marauders-fancast. It isn't complete yet, because there are some people I haven't found a satisfactory match for yet, but I will keep updating it.  
> Anyway, that's all for now - hope you enjoy this chapter and tell other people about it if you like. And as always, I really welcome comments/reviews/messages - feedback always helps me know if I'm giving you guys a story you want to read.

 “Dad, can I have some more chocolate?” Remus Lupin asked as his parents exchanged very serious looks and tried to pretend that they were not going to be discussing moving yet again once their two children were out of the room.

“No,” Lyall replied firmly, giving his wife a look as though to say _see, I can be tough of him too_.

“Why have you become so fond of chocolate lately anyway?” Hope Lupin questioned, narrowing her eyes at her eight-year-old son. “You never used to care for it much.”

“I don’t know, I just do,” Remus answered, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “I’ve heard that can happen you know, as you get older your tastes change.”

“Indeed,” Hope hummed, but there were more important things to deal with at the moment than her son’s dietary changes.

“Remus, take Zeva upstairs for her nap please,” Lyall instructed, and the boy reached his hand out to lead his protesting little sister up to her bedroom.

The two children looked nothing alike. Remus, despite having his father’s light brown hair, was otherwise entirely his mother’s son in appearance, with green eyes and a long, soft, kind looking face. Zeva, on the other hand, had a mass of unruly blonde curls and freckles covering her pale skin. She was shorter than he had been at her age, and frail looking, like she was half bird.

Remus held her hand as she jumped up the stairs one at a time, as patient as he always was with her. He could hear his parents whispering quietly as they trouped up the stairs, but they were careful not to be heard. When he had finally gotten his sister settled for her nap, Remus retreated to his own room and flopped down on his bed, fingering the little chocolate bar he had swiped from the kitchen. It was only two days after the full moon, so he was still tired, aching, and generally worn out. His parents had kept him home again today, hoping that he would appear normal again the next so he could go out and play with other children. He didn’t feel like playing with the neighbors’ children though – he never felt like he could be his real self around other people, always watching what he said, careful not to reveal his secret because they would, undoubtedly, hate him when they found out.

He let out a long sigh and began going through information in his head. _Coffee and chocolate make dogs really sick. They damage the cardiac and nervous systems. Grapes cause liver and kidney damage. Onions can cause damage to the red blood cells and make dogs anemic._ Remus thoughtfully broke off a piece of the chocolate bar he was holding and ate it, savouring the taste. _I wonder if wolves are allergic to the same things. They are a part of the dog family, but they’re also different. And werewolves aren’t just any old wolves. But maybe… if I eat enough…_ Remus gobbled down the rest of the bar quickly and leaned his head back on the pillow, falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

Downstairs, Lyall plopped down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, running his fingers through his hair violently, make it stand up every which way.

“The neighbors are starting to ask questions,” Hope whispered softly, her voice betraying a note of panic. “They were wondering what’s wrong with him, asking why he’s always sick.” She bit her lip to try to gain some control of her voice, stop it from going unnaturally high or quavering. “And they were commenting on his howling. They said it sounded like we had something in our yard. Lyall, they’re going to know soon!”

“Calm down, Hope,” he answered, patting her hand gently. “They don’t know anything yet.”

“They aren’t idiots,” she hissed in response, pulling her hand away and standing up to bustle around the kitchen. Anything to keep her hands busy. “We can’t wait until they know, Lyall. What if word got out?”

“So you want to move?” Lyall asked, sounding resigned.

“I don’t want to, no,” Hope replied, wringing her hands, “but we have to protect our family.”

“Where would we even go?” he pressed.

“What if –“ Hope started, hesitant. “What if we moved to a Muggle town?”

“No,” Lyall answered forcefully.

“We could spread about that he has cancer, it would explain the frequent illnesses. Chemotherapy,” she explained after Lyall gave her a confused look. “We could live near my parents, they might be able to –“

“I said no, Hope,” Lyall said again, his voice rising as it took him a great deal of self control not to slam his clenched fist onto the table.

“But –“

“No!” Lyall repeated, and this time his temper got the best of him as he pounded the table. With a deep breath, he continued. “We can’t endanger Muggles like that, Hope. What if he, what if he bit one of them? No, I won’t do it.”

“Fine,” Hope sighed, “another wizarding village it is then.”

“What about Barnton? It’s right in between Manchester, Stoke, and Liverpool – you could go to the cities to be around Muggles more often if you wanted.” Lyall gave her a wary look, unsure of how best to make his wife happy in an unfortunate situation.

“It sounds lovely, darling,” she answered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll start looking for a house, then,” Lyall sighed, and Hope offered him a weak smile.

“It’s the best thing to do,” she stated, trying to convince herself and him. “I’ll tell the kids when they wake up.”

“Do you think Remus will be alright?” he asked, concern etched on his face. “He takes it so hard every time we move.”

“We should think of an excuse.”

“You could have an assignment there?” Lyall offered.

“What will I tell them when I’m home all day then, not out on assignment?” she countered, taking Lyall’s hand.

“I could talk to the Ministry,” he suggested, “actually try to get you an assignment. It would be good for you, I think, to get back to work some more.”

“I can’t, you know that,” Hope replied, shaking her head. “Remus and Zeva need me.”

“Barnton, it’s not far from your parents, is it?” he asked, and Hope shrugged.

“They’re up in Burnley,” she answered, “so from what you’ve told me, I’d guess it’s about an hour away.”

“You could tell them your parents need help,” Lyall elaborated. “It would give you a reason to go visit them more too.”

“That sounds nice,” she replied, and she hugged him tightly, resting her head against his chest.

“I love you, Hope,” he whispered, and she smiled genuinely.

“I know,” she answered, just as quiet. “I love you too.”

Upstairs, Remus awoke with a start, his stomach churning unpleasantly, and he ran to the bathroom. He knelt on the tile floor just in time, and heard his mother’s footsteps on the stairs as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Hope opened the door and sat beside him, running his hand up and down his back and through his hair soothingly. _It’s working_ , he thought, and the idea cheered him up ever so slightly as his stomach contracted again.

“Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?” Hope hummed, still running her hands over Remus’ back. “Anything that will make you feel better?”

He nodded weakly while she reached up and flushed the contents of the toilet.

“Chocolate ice cream, please, Mum.”


	7. 1968, London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few things to start. At this point in the story, Bellatrix is 17, Andromeda is 15, and Narcissa is 13, and they'll be entering their 7th, 5th, and 3rd years at Hogwarts respectively. Within the descriptions of them is a link, follow that if you want to see the outfit inspiration. I may or may not have another chapter tomorrow, we'll see.  
> As always, I greatly appreciate feedback, so comments/messages/reviews are more than welcome.  
> Enjoy!

“Sirius, go change your shirt,” Walburga Black commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. “I want you to look your best today.”

“But –“ Sirius started, tugging at the hem of his favorite Grateful Dead shirt (he had managed to convince his parents, barely, that it was a wizarding band, and though they disapproved of wrock, they had given up trying to tame his taste in music, and simply mandated that the shirt was not to be worn in public).

“Do not argue with me, Sirius Phinneas Black!” she yelled, and she shook her cane threateningly, making the boy scramble up the stairs.

Up in his room, he switched the black t-shirt for a [grey button down](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=170768139), then shrugged on a black sports coat, looking prim and proper the way his parents wanted. Sirius didn’t know why he had to dress so nicely, it was just his cousins coming over, but his mother insisted, and it wasn’t worth another beating. He had long ago learned to pick his battles with his parents, although perhaps he hadn’t learned well enough, because as he got older, he seemed to find more and more reasons to provoke them.

“Hurry up,” Walburga called from downstairs, and Sirius jumped into action, bounding down the stairs and into the living room, sliding to a halt next to his younger brother, and eliciting a note of disgust from his mother.

“You need a hair cut,” she tutted in disapproval.

“Well I’m not going to get one,” he replied snarkily, earning him a swift smack on the arm from his mother’s cane. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from rubbing at the welt – doing so would only earn him another, he knew.

Three swift knocks on the heavy front door sounded throughout the house, and they heard Kreacher hurry to answer the door. Sirius was sure the obedient little house elf bowed and scraped and offered to take coats, and the idea made him sneer to himself. _Filthy creature_ , Sirius thought to himself. Not a moment later, six individuals trooped through the door, and Sirius could not say he was glad to see most of them.

His uncle, Cygnus, and aunt, Druella, came first – the former in a fine black suit and the latter in an elegant set of deep green robes accented with black. They looked like velvet, so Sirius could only assume that she was sweltering underneath them, not that she would ever show it. Bellatrix, the oldest of their three daughters, followed next, dressed in [black leather ](http://www.polyvore.com/bellatrix/set?id=170725695)from head to toe, with tarnished silver earrings and a black and silver snake ring adorning her finger. She wore a smug grin as she entered the living room, arm in arm with some guy Sirius didn’t know. Andromeda came next, in her [simple black dress](http://www.polyvore.com/andromeda/set?id=170723485) and heels (the underside of which was bright red), with matching crimson earrings that looked like dripping blood, and she offered a sly smile to Sirius, one the others wouldn’t see. She had always been his favourite cousin. Little Narcissa (well, little because she was the youngest, though she was still five years older than him) brought up the rear of the little procession, showing impressive dedication to her house in an [olive green v-neck](http://www.polyvore.com/narcissa/set?id=170724553) and short boots, a silver skirt, and earrings, a ring, a bracelet, and a necklace, all in the guise of snakes. The three girls, and the unknown boy, stood next to Sirius and Regulus while Cygnus and Druella greeted Orion and Walburga, and then the two older women turned their attention to the children.

“My, my,” Walburga tutted approvingly. “Narcissa sure has grown quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

“As has Regulus,” Druella agreed. She eyed Sirius with disapproval, and neglected to comment on him, which suited him just fine.

“Andromeda, dear, you’re getting a bit pudgy,” Walburga sighed, patting Andromeda on the cheek. “Don’t want people to think you’re from one of those blood-traitor families – oh, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Potters, they’re all the same, all filth, and all quite plump.”

“It’s true, dear, it really is,” Druella agreed, eyeing her middle daughter with disdain.

“Ah, and Bellatrix, so tough looking,” Walburga grinned, and Bellatrix smirked with pleasure. “And who’s your friend?”

“Auntie, this is Rodolphus Lestrange, he’s a year older than me, but Slytherin too, of course,” Bellatrix answered sweetly, a far cry from her true personality, Sirius knew. But she had always known how to deceive the grown-ups, that was for sure.

“Tell me, Rodolphus,” Orion cut in, stepping forward and puffing on his pipe, emitting a large cloud of acrid green smoke right in the young man’s face, “about your family.”

“Pure-blood, sir,” the young man answered respectfully, puffing out his chest as though very important. “Not quite as ancient as the noble House of Black, but still sir, quite old. And not a drop of Mudblood filth in our veins, not even through marriage.”

“That is quite an achievement. Our own blood line,” he waved vaguely at the family tapestry on the wall behind them, “has been soiled once or twice by marriage to vermin, but we have long since cut ties with those traitors.”

“As you should, sir.” Rodolphus replied, sounding very pleased with himself that he seemed to be passing the family interrogation with flying colours. “Keeping the bloodlines pure is of the utmost importance.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Orion agreed thoughtfully. “And your connections? Are you gainfully employed now that you’ve graduated from Hogwarts?”

“Father is very familiar with the head of the Auror office,” Rodolphus explained, “so I’ve managed to secure a spot training there. Though, if I may be honest sir, I’m not sure how long I would want to be employed at the Ministry.”

“And why is that?” Cygnus jumped in, sounding quite curious.

“Father was very close with a man named Tom Riddle while he was at school, sir, though he went by another name to those who knew him best,” the young man told them in a hushed voice, as though imparting a very dear secret. “They haven’t been in touch in ages, because Father says Mr. Riddle’s been traveling, preparing something. Father says things are going to change around here when he gets back, and I imagine the Ministry will be the first thing to crumble. Good riddance too, the Minister is far too soft on half-breeds and Mudbloods and all kinds of filth.”

“Yes,” Cygnus hummed, “well, rumour has it Abraxas Malfoy intends to do something about our dreadful Minister.”

The other three adults nodded in agreement.

“Well, Bellatrix,” Orion concluded, stepping away, “it seems you’ve found quite a suitable young man.”

Bellatrix grinned up at Rodolphus, although Sirius had the thought (which he had had many times before) that smiles on her looked rather grim – dark and twisted. He wasn’t convinced that she was actually capable of feeling any sentiments that would generate a smile, so it was always forced, a fake.

Kreacher appeared in the doorway, bowing repeatedly to everyone in the room (although he bowed twice as often to Walburga as he did to anyone else).

“Can Kreacher offer Masters Black and Black, and Mistresses Black and Black, some tea?” he squeaked, eager to serve them.

“Yes, please, Kreacher. We’ll take it in the drawing room, if you would,” Walburga answered, and she swept out her arm to indicate that Druella and Cygnus should lead the way.

“I do hope the next Minister is someone with proper sense,” Sirius heard his father saying as they proceeded down the stairs. “The half-breed situation is becoming out of control. Damn things should just be hanged, make the world a better place. Vicious, dirty things. And Mudbloods too, while they’re at it.”

The moment they heard the door to the drawing room shut, Bellatrix grabbed Rodolphus’ hand, leading him out of the room and upstairs somewhere, probably to the attic. Regulus bounded over to Narcissa, pulling her by the hand over to the window seat and asking her to regale him with stories of Hogwarts. They small boy could not wait for his turn to attend, though he still had four years until his eleventh birthday. Andromeda looked at Sirius and he shrugged, following her to a corner of the room far from the other two, where they sat down cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the walls.

“Do you think it’s all true, Andy?” Sirius asked, his voice low so the others didn’t hear. “Everything they say about Mudbloods and half-breeds and non-human creatures?”

“I know it’s not,” she answered, just as quiet. “Look, you can’t tell anyone, you have to promise that, okay?” He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve met someone. His name is Ted, and he’s Muggle-born, and he’s no different from us, really. I mean, he is different, of course he is, but not in a bad way, not in a way that makes him worse than us.”

“Mother says they’re filth,” Sirius replied quietly, as though it were a secret (when really it was anything but).

“They’re not,” Andromeda said matter-of-factly, sitting up as tall as she could. “I can assure, Ted bathes just a frequently as any other fifteen-year-old boy.”

Sirius laughed quietly at the joke and Andromeda joined him, the two of them laughing so hard they cried and doubled over, trying hard not to make any noise.

“But what about half-breeds?” Sirius ventured hesitantly, and Andromeda paused.

“I’ve yet to see any proof that half-breeds aren’t exactly what Mother and Father say they are – dirty, thieving, savage, dim-witted creatures that would kill us all if we didn’t impose strict regulations,” she answered at last, sounding firm and confident in her beliefs. Sirius, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.

“But what if –“ he started, shaking his mane of black curls.

“Trust me, Sirius. You’re only eight years old, you don’t know yet. You’ll see we’re right one day,” Andromeda said, patting him on the shoulder.

Sirius smiled at his older cousin, but some niggling concern settled itself in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that none of it seemed right. He couldn’t explain why – he had never met a half-breed, or a Mudblood, for that matter – but it just didn’t seem possible that they could all be bad. Still, he trusted Andromeda, and if she said that was the case, he really ought to take her word for it. He probably just felt unsure because he was being rebellious and wanted to reject everything his parents told him, but he supposed they were bound to be right at some point. He smiled reassuringly and Andromeda lifted her hand from his shoulder, giving him a warm smile in return. They steeled themselves for dinner, where they sat, with the other four children (or rather, non-adults), not speaking unless spoken to, and listened to their parents rant about the tragedy of having Mudblood filth in charge of the Ministry, and the need for stricter laws to punish half-breeds and non-humans. The niggling feeling in Sirius’ stomach grew and grew, but he pushed it aside for the moment, telling himself instead to trust his cousin and to eat his Sunday Roast.


	8. 1968, Whitby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, there’s some personal stuff going on right now and Peter’s chapters are the hardest to write anyway. As always, I really welcome comments/reviews/ messages - feedback always helps me know if I’m giving you guys a story you want to read.

Peter came home from school one afternoon with a black eye, much to the surprise of his parents. He was not usually a very physical boy, preferring to read comic books instead, so it was extremely concerning to see this new development. Naturally, Isadora cleared it up in a matter of minutes, now that she no longer had to hide her magic (although she still tried to keep it to a minimum for Murphy’s safety).

“But where on earth did you get it?” Isadora asked her son as she waved her wand over his face, the deep bruising fading quickly. Peter just shifted uncomfortably, avoiding making eye contact with her. “Really, pumpkin, you can tell me.”

“Got hit with a football…” Peter mumbled, ducking his head. He didn’t tell her that Ben Broadhurst deliberately threw the football at his face from about three feet away after Peter whiffed it during their game in gym class, but Isadora read between the lines.

“Why don’t you go read that new Fantastic Four comic we picked up the other day?” she suggested, and Peter nodded, scurrying up the stairs to his bedroom.

Isadora watched him climb the stairs and listened for the sound of his door closing before she returned to the kitchen, lifting the phone from its bed and quickly dialing the number for her husband’s office.

“Hello?” she heard his voice answer on the other end of the line, sounding rather distracted.

“Murphy, it’s me –“

“Hi Izz, what’s wrong?” he asked, picking up on her anxiety almost instantly.

“It’s Peter,” Isadora replied, chewing on her bottom lip. “I think he’s being bullied.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He came home with a black eye today, said he got hit by a football, but I think it’s more likely someone hit him,” she answered, and she could practically hear his frown.

“Didn’t you say that wiz…” he lowered his voice, “children like you can do things to stop stuff like this… they exhibit early signs of… _magic_? Why doesn’t Peter do something to defend himself?”

“It’s not a conscious thing he would be able to control yet,” Isadora said as her own lips twisted down in a frown, “but you’re right, most wizard children will do magic by accident to defend themselves when their emotions run high.”

“So why isn’t he…?”

“He might not be magic…” she whispered, sounding nervous.

“Is that… is that a possibility?” Murphy asked, and Isadora didn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in his voice.

“We call them Squibs, nonmagic children born to parents with magic.”

“Izz, don’t get me wrong, you know I don’t have a problem with you being, well, what you are, but… would it really be that bad if he were one?” Murphy ventured, and Isadora had to pause a moment before answering.

“I don’t know, Murph,” she said truthfully. “Squibs are outcasts in our world, and if he’s being bullied here… I hoped things would be better for him at Hogwarts…”

“Well, nothing’s certain, I suppose. Only time will tell.”

“I guess so…”

“I have to get back to work now, Izz,” Murphy told her, loathe to leave his wife in such a state of turmoil and anxiety. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, alright?”

“Of course, I’ll see you in a bit,” she replied tensely.

She replaced the phone on the receiver and moved about the kitchen, collecting ingredients to start making dinner. Isadora hadn’t heard Peter come back downstairs, wanting a snack, and after she hung up the phone, he snuck back up the stairs, retreating to his room where he stared absentmindedly at the ceiling, wondering whether he was just a complete waste of space.


	9. October 27, 1970, London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I want to thank you all for your patience with the stretch of time between updates right now. I'm still on a bit of a hiatus from writing right now, there's a lot going on in my life that I'm trying to deal with at the moment. I wanted to give you something as a thank you for being patient though, so here's another chapter. Thanks and enjoy!

Sirius awoke early on the morning of his birthday filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety that made his stomach bubble uncomfortably. Normally his birthday was a somewhat sad affair, filled with reminders that he had spent another year as the family disappointment, but _this year_ was different. This year he was turning eleven years old, which meant he was _finally_ old enough to go to Hogwarts. Of course it would be months before the new term started, and they would likely be just as insufferable as the first ten years had been, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel, a day when he would be able to leave the gloom of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Sirius leapt out of bed and sprinted down to the kitchen, crashing into the wall a few times in his haste and wincing as it pressed on tender bruises along his arms. He slid into his usual seat at the long wooden table in the kitchen and bounced his leg impatiently as he waited for Kreacher to finish cooking breakfast.

“Kreacher wishes Master Sirius a happy birthday…” the house elf snarled in a tone that clearly indicated that he meant none of it.

“Yes, yes,” Sirius replied, brushing aside the elf’s words callously. “Have any owls arrived yet?”

“No, Master Sirius, no owls is arriving today, but it is only being 6 o’clock,” Kreacher answered and Sirius sighed impatiently and started tapping his fingers against the wood. “Nasty, impatient little brat,” Kreacher mumbled, though not as quietly as he thought, and Sirius scowled at his back.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Sirius looked up hopefully, but it was only his mother who entered the kitchen, still wearing her dressing gown, empty handed.

“Sirius, what on earth did you mean by making such a racket this morning? Your father and I thought there was a stampede of hippogriffs in the house. Most unbefitting for a young man of eleven.” Walburga glared at her son hotly and watched in satisfaction as he recoiled slightly under her gaze.

“My apologies, Mother, I was just excited, that’s all,” Sirius answered her, bowing his head in attrition.

“Yes, well, I suppose it is to be excused,” she commented, giving her son a very rare smile. “Today is a rather important birthday, after all.”

“When do you think my letter will come?” Sirius asked, grinning broadly as he sat up a little straighter.

“Well, so long as you don’t continue to be a disappointment to the family by being a Squib, I expect it will come around lunchtime. Perhaps with the morning post, if you’re lucky.”

Sirius tried to ignore the blow to his gut that he felt at his mother’s words.

“Still, we’ll have anther Slytherin in the family – ooh, you’d best make us proud. I expect Professor Slughorn, he’s the new head of house, will be quite eager to add another Black to his collection.” Walburga puffed her chest out proudly as she sipped on the mug of tea that Kreacher handed her. “Of course, he’ll be overjoyed once Regulus arrives, but I expect he’ll welcome you too. It won’t be the same, but you’re still a Black, and that carries a lot of weight, even if it is all you’re good for.”

Sirius grimaced as he thought privately that everyone in the outside world might not be quite so keen on his younger brother as their mother thought. Regulus was cold, cruel, and manipulative, good at sensing other people’s weaknesses and playing with them to get what he wanted.

“Can I have a cup of tea?” he asked Kreacher, slouching down further in his seat as his mother prattled on.

“May I,” she corrected instinctively. “And sit up straight.”

“Master Sirius’ tea,” Kreacher sneered, placing a mug of steaming hot tea in front of the young boy.

“Will Father be home today?” Sirius asked curiously, hoping that today might be a special day, that his family might have some kind of treat for him.

“No, of course not, it’s Tuesday. Did you expect him to take the day off work just because it’s your birthday?” Sirius tried to hide his disappointment as Walburga gave him a pitying look and Kreacher chuckled.

“No, I just thought…” he started, but he cut himself off, lifting his chin up and sitting up straighter in his chair, trying his best to look simultaneously proud and aloof. “I would like to choose what we eat for dinner tonight.”

“I suppose that would be alright,” Walburga conceded, raising a curious eyebrow at her son. “Just tell Kreacher what you would like and he’ll sort it out.”

“Mince pies!” Sirius shouted immediately, unable to contain his glee at having won this small battle. “And roast potatoes! And garlic baguette with cheese! And carmelized carrots! And lemon cake with vanilla cream frosting and custard on the side!”

“As Master Sirius wishes…” Kreacher replied obediently, bowing low with a mocking look twinkling in his eyes.

Sirius stuck his tongue out at the house elf, a poorly timed action as it coincided with the entrance of his father into the kitchen and earned him a sharp smack on the back of the head.

“Manners,” Orion scolded, as he sat down in his customary seat at the table and unfolded the newspaper in his hand. A mug of tea appeared in front of him almost instantly and he began to read as Kreacher finished preparing breakfast and Sirius massaged his stinging head.

“Was there a letter in with the newspaper?” Sirius asked, his hopes rising slightly.

“Did I hand you a letter?” Orion countered, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“No,” he admitted, grumbling.

“Then I’d say it’s safe to assume that no letter arrived.”

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and sunk lower into his chair, suddenly feeling very surly indeed. The old grandfather clock in the corner tick tocked away the seconds that felt eternal while Sirius waited for the arrival of his letter. Regulus joined them eventually and Kreacher served a delicious breakfast of sausages, bacon, eggs, hash, and toast. Walburga told stories of her days in Slytherin that dampened Sirius’ spirits slightly – as excited as he was to go to Hogwarts, he didn’t feel like he would fit in in Slytherin, he wasn’t like his family. Orion departed for work, ruffling Regulus’ dark hair and kissing his wife on the cheek. Time seemed to lose all meaning as Sirius waited, the seconds stretching into minutes into an hour, his leg bouncing uncontrollably under the table. Finally he excused himself from the table, returning to his room to get dressed for the day (not that he had anywhere to go or anyone to see, but his mother insisted even so). He pulled on his favorite dark jeans and a rock shirt that his mother hated, slipped on his high top converse and rushed down stairs to sit on the front steps of the house. Still within the bounds of the house’s charms, he could see out to the muggle street beyond but remained hidden from view where he sat.

After an hour or so, his mind began to wander and he found himself daydreaming, thinking about the days to come. He imagined being surrounded by friends, laughing and studying together, maybe playing Quidditch. He imagined days in the library doing research on fascinating topics and evenings in the common room with his classmates. He pictured what the common rooms might look like – Slytherin with stone walls and high vaulted ceilings, with velvet rugs and silk curtains and expensive things that one mustn’t touch; Hufflepuff with big open windows and skylights and sunlight streaming everywhere, big fluffy cushions the size of chairs to sit on and displays of student artwork on the walls; Ravenclaw with deep mahogany tables scattered about the room and straight back wooden chairs (with a cushioning charm to make them more comfortable) and lamps with little orbs of warm light glowing on each table, bookshelves lining the walls and old leather sofas in front of the fireplace; Gryffindor with beautiful tapestries hanging, and dozens of plush sofas scattered around the room, every inch of the place covered in red and gold, constantly a cacophony of excitement. He didn’t know where he fit in – it certainly didn’t feel like he belonged in Slytherin, with his parents’ pureblood propaganda, but he didn’t feel particularly brave, intelligent, or loyal either. What if he didn’t belong in any of the houses? Would they just send him back home to face the scorn of his family? What if he didn’t get a letter at all and he was actually a Squib? _Don’t be ridiculous_ , he tried to reassure himself, _just this summer you accidentally turned Bella’s eyebrows green._ The more time passed, the worse the churning knot in his stomach became.

At long last late in the afternoon, as the sun was beginning to make its descent over the towering buildings of London, an owl fluttered down from the sky and landed on Sirius’ knees, a thick envelope clutched in its beak. All of a sudden very nervous, Sirius held his hand out tentatively, and the owl dropped the envelope into his fingers, giving him a quick nip before flying off again.

_Mr. S. Black_

_The Stoop_

_12 Grimmauld Pl_

_London_

Slowly, he turned the letter over, slipping his fingers under the wax seal and pulling it over. He pulled out two pieces of parchment and unfolded them, taking a deep breath as he read the emerald green scrawl.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Black,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

His heart swooped with joy and he clutched the letter close to his chest, feeling happier than he could remember being in his entire life.


	10. March 10, 1971, Barnton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for your support and your patience right now as I adjust to some life changes. I hope you are all enjoying the story very much. As always, feedback in the form of kudos/comments/messages/sharing the story/etc. is always appreciated, and I love all of you who read this story and find a way of letting be know <3

Hope was upstairs tugging a sweater over little Zeva’s blonde curls, the little seven-year-old girl putting up a valiant fight over going to school, much like she did every day. It fell to Lyall to give Remus his breakfast – a special treat of pain au chocolat because it was his birthday – not that he minded one bit. The two Lupin boys sat at the table in their little breakfast nook eating happily, chatting about hinkypunks, when a sharp rapping on the front door caused them to look up in surprise.

“I’ll get it,” Lyall smiled at his son, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion, as he rose from his seat and headed for the door.

He was not expecting to open it and find an older man with a long white beard standing in front of him, half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his nose as he peered over the top of them.

“Good morning, Lyall,” Albus Dumbledore said, grinning warmly. “I’ve sent an owl to the Ministry informing them that you will be needing the day off.”

“I’m sorry, why?” Lyall answered, his confusion only growing.

“I have a few matters to discuss with you and your family.”

“Of course, please come in.” Lyall opened the door a little wider and stepped aside, gesturing for Dumbledore to enter.

The older man crossed the threshold with a smile, his hands clasped together in front of his chest, deep purple robes flowing over the floor as he stepped into the sitting room and gazed around, taking in the assortment of photographs on the mantle and the end tables. They all showed a happy family, two children who adored each other and parents who doted on them. No hint whatsoever of the troubles and the worries that plagued them all.

“Hope!” Lyall called upstairs to his wife. “Hope, could you come down here?”

She appeared at the top of the stairs a few seconds later, Zeva holding her hand and frowning petulantly as the two of them walked down the stairs.

“What is it?” Hope inquired, her eyebrows knitting together as she took in the look of apprehension on her husband’s face.

“The Headmaster is here,” Lyall whispered back, and Hope peered around him to catch a glimpse of the man running his long fingers over the waxy leaves of the potted plant in the corner.

“Excuse me, Headmaster,” she said politely as she stood in the doorway of the sitting room, “we’ll be with you in just a moment, as soon as we get the kids off to school –“

“Actually, Mrs. Lupin, I will require your son’s presence as well,” Dumbledore answered with a cheerful smile.

“Right,” Hope replied, trying not to seem too concerned. “Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“A cup of tea would be lovely,” he responded, eyes twinkling with delight.

It took another twenty minutes to get Zeva completely ready for school and then walk her to the building, by which time Dumbledore had inspected every photograph and magically replenished his cup of tea. Remus sat nervously in the kitchen the whole time, trying to finish his breakfast, which had suddenly become rather tasteless, like eating cardboard. He knew wizarding children usually got their Hogwarts letters on their eleventh birthdays, and of course he had been hoping… but he had known that things were different for him, and it was unlikely that he would be able to go to school with the other children. His parents had sat him down and told him as much a few months earlier, to make sure he understood, but he had already suspected… he was a very smart boy after all. Dumbledore was probably there to explain to them in person why Remus couldn’t go to school at Hogwarts, he kept telling himself, trying to ignore the nasty squirming feeling that had begun to settle in the pit of his stomach.

When Hope returned at last and returned her jacket to its hook by the door, Remus reluctantly pushed himself out of his seat in the breakfast nook and made his way, feet shuffling, to the sitting room. Lyall and Hope sat side by side on the sofa, hands clasped tightly together, and Dumbledore had conjured a plush crimson armchair to lounge in, leaving Remus to sit in the large worn leather armchair that his father usually occupied.

“Now, young man, I trust you are aware that a wizard’s eleventh birthday is of the utmost importance?” Dumbledore asked, turning his chair to face Remus.

“Yes, sir,” he replied politely, wringing his hands in his lap.

“And I believe a wish of happy birthday is in order,” Dumbledore smiled.

“Thank you, sir,” Remus answered, his head still bowed, looking resolutely at the carpet between his shoes.

“I have brought with me a present for you,” the older man said, reaching into the folds of his robes and extracting an envelope, which he handed to a very confused looking Remus.

Mr. R. Lupin

The Armchair

36 Hollyharp Ln

Barnton

Remus stared at the emerald writing on the front with wide eyes, completely shocked by what he was holding.

“But sir…” he started, but Dumbledore cut him off.

“Open it,” he insisted, and Remus did as he was told.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Lupin,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Again, Remus looked up at the wizard in front of him with a mixture of shock and apprehension, as though worried that someone might be playing a trick on him.

“Now, of course your case is a bit unusual,” Dumbledore continued when Remus did not speak right away, “but I see no reason why that should mean you cannot be a normal student.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyall interrupted, looking scandalized, “no reason? You do know what he is, don’t you?”

“He is your son,” Dumbledore answered sternly, giving Lyall a highly reproachful look. “I am aware, however, that your son is afflicted with lycanthropy, yes.”

“He’s a werewolf!” Lyall burst out, and immediately looked ashamed of himself as Remus returned his gaze to the floor.

“He is first and foremost a child,” he reprimanded, ice blue eyes piercing Lyall like a knife, “and a wizarding child at that. Which means he is offered a place at Hogwarts, should he choose to accept it.” The Headmaster returned his gaze to the eleven year old boy, who looked up with his own green eyes filled with a deep respect for the man in front of him.

“Can I really go?” he asked quietly, almost not daring to hope that it was all real.

“Of course you can,” Dumbledore replied, offering the boy a warm smile.

“What about the other students?” Hope inquired, speaking up for the first time. “How will you keep them safe? What if he infects one of the other children?”

“Ah, yes, I anticipated this slight hiccup,” he answered with a grin and a wink directed at Remus. “Earlier this year, I had a passage built from the castle grounds to an abandoned building in Hogsmeade, and placed a Whomping Willow above the entrance to the passage to deter any curious students. At the full moon, Remus will be escorted from the castle by either myself, his head of house, or our resident Healer, and taken to this passage so he can safely transform in the abandoned building. I have, myself, placed many protective enchantments on it so he will be unable to leave until morning when the transformation is reversed.”

“That sounds very thorough,” Hope said, though the expression on her face was still one of hesitance and uncertainty. “What if something goes wrong though?”

“My dear Hope,” Dumbledore chuckled, “nothing will go wrong, I assure you.”

“You’re sure I wont hurt anyone?” Remus chimed in, his voice very quiet.

“We have taken every possible precaution to ensure that Hogwarts is the safest place for you,” Dumbledore said by way of an answer.

“I want to go,” Remus said, looking between Dumbledore and his mother and father. “Please, can I?”

“I… I don’t know…” Lyall started, but the look of excitement on his son’s face stopped him in his tracks. “Oh, alright then. But if anything comes even remotely close to happening, we’ll have to bring you home again.”

“Thank you Dad!” Remus exclaimed, jumping up from his seat on the couch and running over to hug his parents before turning back to Dumbledore. “Thank you, sir, I promise I’ll be the best student, you won’t regret this.”

“I feel sure of it,” Dumbledore answered, peering at Remus over the top of his spectacles, blue eyes twinkling with a sense of mischief. “I expect you have an abundance of things to take care of now, so I will leave you too it. Thank you most kindly for the cup of tea.”

He stood and made his way toward the door, cloak billowing out behind him as he stepped out into the cool March air, Remus holding the door open for him.

“See you on September 1st,” Dumbledore said as he turned to walk down the front path.

“Sir!” Remus called out at the last minute, and the Headmaster turned to look at him. “Do I still have to send an owl with my reply?”

“No,” Dumbledore laughed heartily, “no, Remus, I think telling me of your decision in person quite suffices.”

With that, he strode to the little front gate and twisted on the spot, disappearing into thin air and leaving little Remus Lupin feeling more eager and excited than he could remember feeling in a long time.


	11. March 27, 1971 - Godric's Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is so short, I just couldn't figure out how exactly I wanted this scene to play out beyond this, and I don't want to hold up the story so I can think about it. I hope you still enjoy it! Thanks for reading :)

“Now, tell me who the father of modern wizardry is.”

James sat, staring out the large bay window and tapping his pencil against the dark mahogany table, as his tutor gave him a stern glare.

“James, please,” Florian scolded, his patience with the young boy wearing thin. “I realize that you’re excited for your birthday, but you must pay attention during your lessons.”

“I just wish they’d deliver it already, I want to go to Diagon Alley with Mother to make sure I have all the best things,” James sighed, turning away from the window.

“I’m sure it’ll arrive soon enough,” Florian reassured. “You must be excited for all the presents your parents will have gotten you, too.”

“I suppose,” James shrugged. “It’s just stuff though, it’s not like –“

“Not like what?” the older boy pressed when James cut himself off.

“I’d rather have friends than have money,” James burst out rather suddenly, and Florian gave him a somewhat pitying look. He had known that the ten-year-old was not particularly popular among the other children, but I don’t think he or the Potters realized just how lonely James was.

“Friendship is an infinitely more rewarding commodity,” Florian agreed with a nod, and though James smiled a bit in return, he saw something within the boy withdraw, as though regretting revealing so much personal information.

“What do you do with all the money Mother and Father pay you?” James asked, changing back to his formal manner that he often adopted during their tutoring sessions.

“I save it, so that one day I might be able to open an ice cream shop,” Florian answered, a broad grin appearing on his face.

“That sounds brilliant,” James replied, “can I come when you open it?”

“Of course. Now, tell me who the father of modern wizardry is, please.”

“Merlin?” James guessed. He had never been particularly fond of history, finding it boring and useless. He was much more interested in learning actual spells and charms, learning how to duel, all the fun things.

“No, Aristotle,” Florian corrected, but James’ attention had returned to the window, thinking of days to come at school.

An owl swooped low over the trees, a barely visible letter clutched in its talons, and James hopped up, speeding out the front door much to Florian’s chagrin. He ran across the lawn and the large, brown barn owl dipped down over his head, dropping the parchment envelope straight into James’ outstretched hands. He ran his fingers over the emerald letters scrawled across the front, reveling in the feel of his name etched into the paper.

_Mr. J. Potter_

_The Front Lawn_

_Hollewood Estate_

_Godric’s Hollow_

He stared at the letters as he trudged back to the house, feeling like he’d just received some prestigious award.

“Mrs. Potter,” James heard Florian call out in the house, and she bustled out of the siting room just as her son stepped back through the front door.

“Yes, dear?” she inquired.

“I thought we might end James’ lessons a little early today,” Florian suggested with a kind wink in James' direction. “I believe he might be somewhat distracted for the rest of the day.”

Margaret Potter glanced over to her son, eyes alighting on the parchment in his small hands, and she puffed up proudly.

“Well, I suppose that would be alright,” she said, her eyes tearing up slightly. “Just this once, as a little treat.” She hugged her son tightly, much to his displeasure. “It’s a very special day after all.”

James smiled proudly, slipping his fingers under the flap of parchment and tearing it open roughly. He pulled out two letters and read the first out loud, grinning to both Florian and his mother.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_


	12. June 6, 1971, Whitby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I apologize that its taken me a few months to update my ongoing fics. Grad school (and life in general) has been kicking the crap out of, but I’ve finally finished my first semester, and I intend to do a lot of writing over the break. That being said, I hope you enjoy and I always appreciate comments/kudos/etc.!

The letter arrived promptly at 1:04 PM on Peter’s birthday, much to everyone’s surprise, as it happened to be a Sunday, and everyone knows there’s no post on Sundays. And yet, there was a knock on the door of Number 32, causing Isadora and Murphy both to look up from their lunch in surprise, while Peter merely pushed around the food on his plate. Murphy was the first to stand, walking from their little kitchen to the front door and opening it widely, at which point he was greeted by the most unusual sight he had seen in quite some time. It was as though someone had asked a random passerby what a postman ought to look like, and not fully comprehended the answer. On the Pettigrew’s doorstep stood a rather stout, salt-and-pepper haired man in light blue bell-bottom jeans, a long, royal blue trench coat that reached his knees, with a thick, red pleather belt buckled round the outside of the jacket, and red tie, topped off with a rich, velvet, navy blue top hat perched on his head. He swept the hat off his neatly combed hair and gave it a fancy flourish as he bowed low to Murphy Pettigrew, who stared incomprehensibly at the stranger.

“Allow me to introduce myself – Professor Cibrán Sniders, at your service,” he said cheerfully. “Er – may I come in? I have a rather important matter to discuss with your family. This is the Pettigrew household, is it not?”

Murphy nodded dimly as he stepped aside, holding an arm out as a gesture of welcoming to the odd man.

“Ooh, good, I’ve gone to the wrong house before, you know,” Professor Sniders remarked as he stepped inside, looking around. “Quite lovely, quite lovely.”

“My wife,” Murphy mumbled, and he began walking towards the kitchen, not really caring one way or the other whether Sniders followed (which he did). “Izz, this is, er, sorry, what was your name again?”

“Professor Cibrán Sniders, ma’am,” he replied, scooping up Isadora’s hand and pressing a swift and polite kiss to the top.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she answered, and her husband appeared impressed at her ability to remain composed given the state of the man in front of her. “I’m Isadora, and I see you’ve already met my husband, Murphy, and this young man,” she placed her hands on Peter’s shoulders proudly, “is our son, Peter.”

“I hear it’s you birthday,” Professor Sniders stated, crouching down in front of Peter the way one might a small child, and Peter narrowed his eyes slightly (if there’s one thing eleven year olds hate, it’s being treated like a small child). “I’ve got something rather special for you.” He stood once more to address the room at large. “You see, I am a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry –  _draco dormiens nunquam titillandus­_ –“ he said the motto as though it were a very important fact, puffing out his chest proudly, “and I’ve been sent here by the headmaster to discuss little Peter’s future. This all may come as somewhat of a surprise to you, magic and such, but –“

“It doesn’t,” Murphy interrupted, causing Professor Sniders to stutter. Presumably, he had had an entire speech prepared, and Murphy had just rendered it completely useless.

“It – it doesn’t?” he asked, looking back and forth between Murphy and Isadora in confusion.

“No, you see, I myself am a witch,” Isadora answered.

“B-but, we had you marked –“ Sniders stammered, and Isadora smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, well, I stopped using magic for quite some time when I started seeing Murphy, here,” she explained, “but our family has recently become, well,  _reacquainted_  with the craft.”

“I see,” he answered, though his tone indicated that he did not see at all, and was rather miffed at having been sent on such a pointless mission. “Well, I suppose I’ll just be giving Peter his letter then.”

Professor Sniders withdrew from the inner pocket of his coat a thick parchment envelope with emerald green writing on the front, and offered it to Peter. The boy merely stared at it, as though he could not believe it was actually there, so Sniders simply placed it on the table.

“Right, well, unless you have any questions, I shall leave you to celebrate the news.” Murphy and Isadora exchanged quick glances before shaking their heads. “Very well, your response is required by no later than the 31st of July.”

“Thank you very much for coming by,” Isadora smiled politely, and she turned to escort the rather ruffled looking Professor Sniders out of the house.

When she returned to the kitchen, Murphy had returned to his seat at the table and Peter was still staring at the letter where it sat, a forkful of eggs forgotten halfway to his mouth.

“Goodness, Peter, what wonderful news!” Isadora exclaimed, kissing Peter’s cheek happily. “Your father and I are so excited for you. I wasn’t sure – of course, I had hoped – but you never showed any signs – well, none of that matters now,” she babbled as she sat down at the table once more.

“Aren’t you going to open your letter, son?” Murphy interrupted, and Peter finally looked up at them.

Slowly, he picked up the thick piece of parchment and turned it over, sliding his finger underneath the fold and carefully ripping it open. He extracted the letter within and stared at it for a second before he began reading aloud.

> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
> 
> Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
> 
> Dear Mr. Pettigrew,
> 
> We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
> 
> Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
> 
> Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
> 
> Yours sincerely,
> 
> Minerva McGonagall
> 
> Deputy Headmistress

“Well, we’re, er, we’re very proud of you, Peter,” Murphy said, though he sounded rather glum. If he were telling the truth, Murphy would have to admit that he was actually a little disappointed. He knew the school would be wonderful and fun, and perhaps there was a chance that Peter would be bullied a little less there, but it still felt as though he were losing his boy. Once he went to this school, that would be it, he would be a part of this world to which Murphy could never truly belong, and that saddened him more than he cared to admit. As gruff as he may seem, Murphy cared quite deeply for his son, and he had been secretly hoping, for many months now, that this day would not come.

“Do I have to go?” Peter asked at last, his voice quiet and anxious.

“What do you mean?” Isadora responded, sounding shocked. “Don’t you want to go to Hogwarts and learn magic?”

Peter simply shrugged. “I’m not very good at it am I? I mean, I’ve never done anything magical in my entire life, have I?”

“Don’t be silly, Peter!” Isadora reassured her son. “That doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure you’ll get to Hogwarts and be the best in your year.”

He looked at her dubiously, but she merely patted his hand.

“I suppose we’ll have to take a trip to Diagon Alley to buy your things,” she continued, ignoring her son’s complete lack of enthusiasm. “We can send a return owl from there, too, I’m sure I remember there being a post office of sorts. Oh, Peter, you’ll love Diagon Alley, it’s so wonderful!”

The rest of the afternoon was spend with Isadora Pettigrew chattering happily about the wonders of magic, while her husband and son listened sullenly. Peter was far to nervous about such a big change to feel any real excitement, and Murphy, well, Murphy just didn’t want magic to start taking his family away from him.


	13. September 1, 1971 - James

His parents took him to Kings Cross. He told them they didn’t have to, tried to be brave, but they told him that they wanted to be there to see him off. And of course they were running late, because when has James Potter _ever_ been on time for anything in his entire life? So they walked briskly through Kings Cross (“Ladies never run, dear,” Margaret Potter had informed her boys), James tugging on his father’s hand.

“The train leaves at _exactly eleven,_ ” James reminded them for the seventh time since their arrival at the station. “That’s only ten minutes!”

“Yes, James, we know,” Margaret replied, her voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it in plenty of time.”

It was a slight exaggeration. They made it through the barrier with only four minutes to spare, but naturally James had to look around the platform in astonishment. A boy his age with jet black, curly hair looked over at him an winked, and James grinned in return – he liked the look of this boy, in his ratty band shirt and jeans, a sports coat thrown over top. He looked _cool_. The train’s whistle blew and suddenly James found himself being pulled into a bone crushing hug by his mother.

“Now don’t forget to write, dear,” she said, her voice choked as she tried to hold back tears. “And if there’s anything you need before the Christmas holidays, just let us know.”

“He’s only going to school, Margaret, not Siberia,” Edward Potter remarked, but he still pulled his son in for a hug nonetheless. “Behave yourself, James.”

With one last look at his parents, the small eleven year old boy grabbed his trunk and climbed on board, just as the train brakes started to unlock, the gears started to shift, and the whole thing began to move forward. He shoved his belongings into the hallway, and then went back to the stairs, watching through the window of the closing door and waving to his parents. James saw his mother wipe away a stray tear, watched as his father pulled her close, and both of them smiled to their son just before he lost sight of them. He stood there for a minute anyway, hand pressed to the glass, trying to compose himself. James was excited, of course, but he was also more nervous than he was willing to admit to anyone. He was on his own for the first time, and he desperately wanted to do well and make his parents proud.

“You close to them?” asked a voice behind James, and he turned to see the curly haired boy from the platform looking at him curiously. “Your parents?”

“They’re all I have,” James shrugged, looking at the boy with some trepidation.

“Lucky you, my parents are rubbish,” he answered with a broad grin. “I’m Sirius by the way.”

“James Potter,” James replied, extending a hand to shake the other boy’s.

“Do – do you want to find a compartment with me?” Sirius asked, sounding a little nervous, though he never looked anything short of confident.

“Yeah!” he said in return, smiling widely.

They chatted inconsequentially as they made their way down the halls, searching for an empty compartment. Two train cars down, they found one with a small red haired girl and an equally small black haired boy.

“Hi,” James said cheerfully, as they peered in. The red haired girl looked at him as though she were trying to decide what kind of person she thought he might be, but the black haired boy across from her glared at him with beetle black eyes. “I’m James, this is Sirius.”

“I’m Lily Evans,” the red haired girl said, reciting her name as though it were the answer to a test question, and she stood up, extending her hand to shake theirs. “This is Severus,” she continued, nodding toward her companion, who had stayed in his seat, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

James wasn’t sure what made him say it, perhaps it was the palpable dislike emanating from the black haired boy, or perhaps it was a desire to impress his new friend, perhaps it was some form of temporary insanity brought on by the presence of the red head. He wasn’t sure he would ever know. But he did know, almost immediately after the words slipped out of his mouth, that it had been an utterly _stupid_ thing to say.

“Sorry, Snivellus, did you say?”

Sirius let out a barking laugh and doubled over, clutching at his stomach, but Lily Evans was far less amused. The smile that had been gracing her face turned sour in an instant, and her green eyes clouded with anger as she pushed James out into the corridor and slammed the compartment door in his face. James stood there, smiling at Sirius as he laughed heartily, and when he looked back at the red haired girl a few seconds later she glared at him and then shut the blinds on the compartment door.

“Good one, James,” Sirius chuckled, slapping the other boy on the back. “The greasy git…”

“Come on, let’s find somewhere else,” James mumbled, moving on down the hall, not feeling quite as giddy as his friend.

Three compartments down and across the hall, they found one that was empty but for a small boy, curled up on one of the seats, seemingly fast asleep. James looked at Sirius, who shrugged, and they entered, lifting their trunks up onto the racks overhead and sitting down near the door, as far as the could from the sleeping boy.

After an hour or so filled with lighthearted conversation and a few card games, the boy began to stir, and Sirius and James regarded him with caution. His eyes blinked open slowly and he gazed over at them, eyes widening in surprise as he took in his company, happily playing a game of Exploding Snap.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Sirius grinned, turning his attention back to the game at hand.

“It’s afternoon,” the boy replied, his voice quiet and shy as he looked out the window.

“How long were you there?” James asked, eyeing the boy unsurely still. “You must have gotten here really early if you fell asleep so fast.”

“My parents had to get to work,” he answered, not looking at James, who could tell that it was a lie, but he decided not to press the issue. “Why’d you sit here?”

“Everywhere else was full,” James shrugged, thinking nothing of it, but he watched the boy nod sadly. “Is it – is it alright that we came in? We didn’t want to wake you –“

“Yes, it’s fine.” He didn’t look quite like it was fine though, but James couldn’t think what would be wrong.

“What’s your name?” Sirius burst out, rather like the cards that had just exploded in front of him.

“Remus Lupin,” the boy answered shyly, but Sirius grinned.

“I’m Sirius, and this is James,” he said cheerfully. “Black and Potter, respectively. Do you want to play?”

“You wouldn’t mind the intrusion?” Remus asked, looking at James with some apprehension.

“’Course not, mate,” Sirius laughed. “Besides, it was us who intruded on you!”

“Yeah, please, come play if you like,” James added, trying to sound welcoming. Sirius had obviously taken a liking to the newcomer, and he wanted desperately to stay on good terms with Sirius.

Remus scooted over next to Sirius, though he left a slightly larger than normal space between them, and James dealt out cards to all three of them, shifting the little collapsible table Sirius had brought (“Mother said it will be a good nightstand, but I think it works for this too”) so that it was in the middle of their little triangle.

An hour or so later, the sound of bickering could be heard from the corridor, loud enough to disturb the three boys from their game. James stood quickly and slid the door open, only to find a large boy with white-blond hair towering over a much smaller, and slightly pudgy boy.

“Don’t make me hex your nose off,” the bigger boy threatened, and the smaller one let out a frightened squeak, backing away quickly.

“I doubt you could,” James stated boldly, stepping out into the corridor between the two boys. “You look to be about as clever as a baboon’s backside.”

“I could always just punch your nose off,” the blond boy replied to James, looking the latter up and down and smirking as though he had decided James was a bug who could easily be squashed.

“Not unless you want me to use one of the special Black family curses on you,” Sirius piped up, stepping forward so he was standing next to James.

“Black? You’re in the wrong compartment, mate,” the big blond boy said, giving Sirius an appraising look. “All the Slytherin families are in the next car.”

“I think I’m just fine where I am, _mate_ ,” Sirius answered, and James stared at him in admiration. “I suggest you run along back to your little Slytherin buddies, though.”

The other boy gave him a curious look, and James could practically feel the wheels turning in his head.

“You either join us, Black, or you watch your back,” he stated before turning and walking away.

“Nice poem,” Sirius snorted at his back, before he and James turned their attention to the small boy cowering behind them.

“You can join us, if you want,” James shrugged, and he followed Sirius back into the compartment, leaving the door open behind him.

The small boy stood hovering in the entrance of the compartment, seemingly unable to decide whether the invitation was genuine.

“Either come in or sod off,” Sirius said without looking up, his attention refocused on their game of exploding snap. “Either way, shut the door.”

James watched as the small boy scurried inside, sliding the compartment door closed behind him, and sat down opposite Remus, eyeing them with some trepidation.

“What’s your name?” Remus asked, offering the newest addition a small smile.

“Peter,” he squeaked, barely audible.

“I’m Remus,” he introduced himself, and then nodded toward the other boys. “That’s Sirius and James. We’re all first years too.”

“How did you know -?” Peter started, but James laughed and cut in.

“No offense, mate, but you’re a little titchy, aren’t you? Bit hard to believe you’re even eleven.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed pink as Sirius and Remus both chuckled lightly. Sirius tossed him a pile of cards and the four boys began a new game of exploding snap, losing track of time except for the steadily darkening sky outside the window.

A magically broadcasted voice floated through the compartment some time later, announcing the impending arrival at Hogsmeade station, and calling on the students to change into their school robes. Sirius, James, and Remus pulled their robes from their trunks and changed awkwardly in front of each other, still basically strangers, while Peter scurried off to the compartment where he had left his luggage. James was just tying the thin black tie around his neck when the train came to a shuddering stop, and he looked eagerly out the window to see a dark station platform, students already spilling onto from the train. He couldn’t stop the smile that began spreading across his face at the realization that he was almost minutes from arriving at his new home.


	14. September 1, 1971 - Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Omg, I’ve had two people message me about this story and tell me they feel like they’re reading JK’s writing again, and just, wow, that’s amazing. Seriously, that’s the highest praise I could ever get for a story like this. I have to thank, of course those people who gave me such an amazing compliment, but of course everyone who’s reading this - and especially everyone who shares this story with a friend, or posts it on their blog, etc. You guys are all amazing. This story is for you, so I’m so glad that you are enjoying it. <3 <3 <3
> 
> The Hogwarts Express and the Sorting are going to be done from each of the boys’ perspectives, so there’s going to be some overlap, but they’re also each going to have unique bits as well. So it’ll be a little like, if you sum up all the bits, you get the whole thing. This is a particularly long chapter, probably because I absolutely love writing Remus.

His alarm went of at precisely 9:00 on the morning of September first, an irritating buzzing noise filling the room. Not that Remus had really needed an alarm, he had been completely unable to sleep the night before. His trunk was already packed and downstairs by the door, a set of clothes laid out for him on the dresser. As he climbed out of bed and pulled his pajamas off, Remus’ anxiety about the coming day grew, filling his stomach with a leaden feeling. _What if nobody liked him? What if they couldn’t decide which House to sort him into and decided it would be better if he were sent home? What if everyone discovered that he was a monster?_ The thoughts kept bubbling to the surface of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shake them off.

“Remus?” his mother’s voice called with a brief knock on the bedroom door. “Are you awake?”

“Yes, Mum,” he answered, pulling a pair of jeans over his skinny legs. “I’ll be down in a minute!”

Remus grabbed the jumper he had set aside and quickly exchanged his t-shirt for it, and then opened the door to his room, bounding down the stairs like a little ball of nervous energy.

“Is breakfast ready?” he asked his mother, where she stood at the kitchen counter.

“Nearly,” she answered, turning around to kiss his cheek. “We’re just waiting on your father and sister to come down.”

“Well where are they?” Remus questioned her, feeling particularly impatient on this very important morning.

“Both getting dressed still, I believe,” she smiled. “What’s the rush, anyway? We still have two hours until the train leaves and your father said –“

“I just want to get there early, that’s all,” he interrupted, and Hope looked at him carefully. She knew her son well enough to guess that he was more anxious about going away to school than he let on, and of course she knew that Remus was _always_ early for things, _especially_ when he was nervous about them.

“Well then, I’ll just go –“ she started to say, but at that precise moment, Lyall Lupin entered the kitchen, holding his younger daughter’s hand as she skipped alongside him. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ruffled Remus’ hair affectionately as the two of them sat down at the table, Hope placing plates piled high with chocolate chip pancakes in front of each of them.

“Is there any syrup, Mummy?” Zeva inquired from where she sat, flashing them the most charmingly innocent face she could manage.

“There’s chocolate _in_ the pancakes, sweetheart,” Hope answered before either of her boys could spoil the little girl. “I think that’s enough sweets for breakfast.”

Zeva pouted and crossed her arms, which only made her parents laugh and Remus smile. He was going to miss his little sister more than he could imagine while he was at school.

“Ree, can I go with you?” she addressed her brother, using the pet name she had given him as a toddler and practically melting his heart with her sweetness.

“I wish,” he smiled sadly, tugging her closer to his side as he continued to eat his pancakes. “But I’ll be back home before you know it, and you’ll have had such a good time without me, you won’t be able to wait for me to go again.”

He hoped, as he said it, that it was a lie, that she would miss him as much as he would miss her and that she would be overjoyed to see him again when the Christmas holidays finally arrived. _If he hadn’t been expelled by then_. The thought popped unbidden into his mind, and suddenly he was more anxious than before, unable to sit still. He shoved the last of his pancakes into his mouth and waited very impatiently for the rest of his family to finish their breakfast. By 9:45 he was practically bouncing out of his seat, so Hope and Lyall decided that it was time to get a move on. They Floo’ed to the apartment of one of Lyall’s coworkers, who lived only a few blocks from Kings Cross, and then walked the rest of the way. By the time they were standing in front of the barrier to platform 9 ¾, Remus wanted nothing more than to get on the train and get it all over with. He walked quickly toward the large, brick barricade, knowing in his mind that he would not collide with it (though it was slightly hard to believe, for it looked very solid), his father’s arm around his shoulder. He passed through it as though there were nothing there, just as his father had said he would, and when Remus looked around at the platform, he was amazed.

A scarlet steam engine puffed thick smoke from it’s front pipe, though it looked as though it had only recently been started, judging by the relatively small amount of smoke that had accumulated in the air above the platform.

“No fair!” Remus heard his little sister whine as she and his mother appeared through the magical barrier. “I want to go too!”

“You’re too young,” Remus said soothingly, turning around to stroke Zeva’s hair. “But I promise to write you letters so often, you won’t even know I’m gone, alright?”

The young girl nodded and sniffed, trying not to cry.

“Want to come help me choose a compartment to sit in?” he asked her, and her eyes immediately brightened.

“Can I, Mummy?” she asked, turning excitedly to look at her parents.

“Alright,” Hope answered, smiling at her children. “But don’t take too long.”

Remus and Zeva raced off toward the nearest door of the train, with him pulling his trunk and her holding onto his free hand as though it were a lifeline. She led him up and down corridors until finally she settled on a compartment that she liked because it felt friendly to her. Remus obligingly lifted his trunk into the luggage hold of the compartment, and then he took her by the hand again and led her back toward their parents. As they stepped off the train, Remus could see that a few more people were slowly starting to trickle onto the platform with their parents, and his anxiety grew.

“Right,” he said, turning to his mother and father bravely, “I suppose I should say goodbye then.”

“Darling, there’s still some time until the train leaves, you don’t have to –“ Hope started, but she knew from the beginning that she was fighting a losing battle.

“No, I – I don’t want to keep you,” Remus said, giving them a weak smile. “Dad needs to get to work.”

“I can stay for a while,” Lyall told his son, but the young boy shook his head resolutely.

“No, that’s alright, I should get settled on the train anyway,” Remus answered, and he pulled his sister in closer for a hug.

“Do you want us to stay until it leaves?” Hope asked her son as she gave him a tight hug, trying not to let the tears spill from her cheek as she thought about leaving her little boy.

“No, I’ll be okay,” he told her, sounding much braver than he really felt.

“Well,” Lyall said as he looked at Remus, looking as though he felt completely at a loss for words. “You’ll, er, you’ll write and tell us what house you’ve been sorted into?”

“Yes, Dad,” Remus answered, wrapping his arms tightly around his father’s waist.

“Good, good,” Lyall replied uncomfortably. He had never had to say goodbye to his son like this before, knowing that it would be months, not hours, until he saw him again. It was harder than he had expected.

Remus pulled away, his small body overflowing with emotion, and he felt the only way to deal with it was to get away and retreat to the privacy of his compartment. He stepped onto the train and turned around to wave to his parents once more, noting the glassy look in his mother’s eyes that meant she was close to crying, and the tears falling freely from his little sister’s eyes. A pang of guilt struck him at the sight, but he forced himself to keep walking. When he reached the compartment they had picked out earlier, he sat down next to the window, resting his head on the cool glass. He checked, but he couldn’t see his family, and he surprised himself by thinking it was a good thing – he wasn’t sure he could bear to sit and look at them for another forty five minutes until the train pulled away. He watched the platform fill with more families, some with children who looked his age, others with teenagers who gave them nonchalant side-armed hugs before rushing off to join their friends. It wasn’t long before the lack of sleep caught up with him and he felt his eye lids grow heavy and fall, drifting off into a deep sleep.

Remus woke with a start to the sound of raucous laughter, the hearty chuckle of one boy and the booming bark of another. He blinked his eyes open slowly, finding, much to his surprise, that he was no longer alone in the compartment. Two boys who looked almost like they could be brothers sat on either side of the door playing a game of Exploding Snap.

“Morning sleepyhead,” the boy nearest him said with a grin before turning back to the game. He had a shaggy head of curly black hair that hung long and unkempt, and he looked like the kind of person who always had a mischievous thought stewing in his mind.

“It’s afternoon,” Remus answered quietly, feeling shy as he looked out the window. The sun was low in the sky, telling him that he had slept for quite some time. Still, he felt tired. The full moon was only a few days away and he could already feel it draining his body. The effects seemed to start earlier and last longer as he got older – apparently turning into a fully adult werewolf was more damaging to the body than turning into a cub.

“How long were you there?” the second boy asked, looking at Remus with something close to suspicion, and it made him shrink back closer to the window. “You must have gotten here really early if you fell asleep so fast.”

“My parents had to get to work,” he lied easily, not wanting to tell them the truth – that he had been too anxious to wait. “Why’d you sit here?”

“Everywhere else was full,” the boy with the straight, black hair shrugged, and Remus nodded, deep in thought. They hadn’t chosen him, they just wanted an empty compartment. “Is it – is it alright that we came in? We didn’t want to wake you –“

“Yes, it’s fine,” Remus said, trying to hide the hurt that had bloomed unwanted in his chest. He should have known better than to hope that they would be friends.

“What’s your name?” the curly-haired boy exploded suddenly, after the three of them had been quiet for a few minutes.

“Remus Lupin,” he answered, giving the boy a shy smile, and his heart leaped when he got a wide grin in return.

“I’m Sirius,” the curly-haired boy said enthusiastically, “and this is James. Black and Potter, respectively. Do you want to play?”

“You wouldn’t mind the intrusion?” Remus asked after a moment’s hesitation, and he eyed James with some apprehension. The second boy didn’t seem like he had quite taken a liking to him yet, and Remus didn’t want to push his luck.

“’Course not, mate,” Sirius laughed, the same barking sound that Remus had heard before, and it sounded like _friendship_. “Besides, it was us who intruded on you!”

“Yeah, please, come play if you like,” the other black-haired boy added, and Remus hear the welcoming note in his voice, though he suspected that this boy - _James_ , he reminded himself – was just as desperate for a friend as he was, and very badly wanted Sirius to like him.

Remus inched over carefully to where Sirius and James sat, as Sirius reached up into his luggage and pulled out a small, collapsible table. He was careful to leave some room though, not wanting to push his presence on the other boys too much. He could tell they were already on their way to being best friends, and told himself repeatedly that their friendship likely would not include him.

“So,” James started carefully, as though he were nervous to broach the topic, as he dealt out cards to each of them. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be sorted into?”

Remus waited for Sirius to answer, assuming that James was more interested in his answer, but he remained quiet, and when Remus looked over, he saw that the other boy had grown solemn, a darkness clouding his features.

“My – my dad was in Hufflepuff,” Remus started shyly, looking between Sirius and James carefully. The latter looked interested in what he was saying, but Sirius was staring resolutely at the cards in his hands, as though he might cause them to burst into flames with enough concentration. “I think he wants me to be in Hufflepuff like him, but he always said I was as smart as any Ravenclaw he ever met.”

“Ravenclaw’s pretty good,” James smiled, looking rather excited. “My father was a Gryffindor, pretty much the whole Potter family. Mother didn’t go to Hogwarts though, they met after school. I really hope I’m in Gryffindor too. What about you, Sirius?”

He turned to face the curly-haired boy, and Remus watched carefully as Sirius seemed to battle with something within himself. He never looked up from the cards in his hands, but his face seemed to harden as he finally spoke.

“My entire family were in Slytherin, I’m surprised you don’t know.”

“You’re one of _those_ Blacks,” James said suddenly, comprehension dawning on his face.

“I’m not like them,” Sirius answered, sounding very agitated, and Remus thought he looked like he might jump up and fight them in a heartbeat if they dared to disagree with him. “I hate them!”

“Fair enough, mate,” James shrugged, and Remus smiled warmly.

“You – you don’t care?” Sirius asked, sounding slightly awestruck, his grey eyes searching them.

“You aren’t your family,” Remus answered, his voice quiet and timid, not sure if he was saying the right thing. Sirius eyed him carefully for a second, and then his face broke into a wide grin, his eyes crinkling completely.

“You know, Remus, I reckon you are smart enough to be in Ravenclaw,” he laughed, knocking his shoulder gently with his fist, and Remus smiled back at him.

After some time, a fight broke out in the hallway, and Remus watched on in awe as James and Sirius stood up to a blond boy nearly twice their size and clearly fond of bullying, all to defend a small boy none of them had seen before. The boy had clearly recognized Sirius’ name, and used it to irritate him further, but in the end, it appeared the reputation of the Black family was enough to indicate that Sirius was _not_ someone to mess with, and they were left alone.

“You can join us, if you want,” James offered apathetically, as he and Sirius reentered the compartment, but the boy just stood in the doorway, looking terribly unsure.

“Either come in or sod off,” Sirius snapped, his temper ignited by the bully’s words. “Either way, shut the door.”

The small boy scurried inside, taking the seat opposite Remus and looking between the three of them nervously. He seemed scared out of his mind, as though he wasn’t sure that they would be any better than the last boy he’d encountered.

“What’s your name?” Remus asked, trying to set the newcomer at ease.

“Peter,” he squeaked, though it was so quiet, Remus was honestly not sure he had heard correctly.

“I’m Remus,” he introduced himself, reaching out a hand to shake, and then jerked his head toward the two sitting next to him. “That’s Sirius and James. We’re all first years too.”

“How did you know -?” little Peter asked, but James’ laughter cut him off.

“No offense, mate, but you’re a little titchy, aren’t you? Bit hard to believe you’re even eleven.”

Remus laughed lightly as he watched a rosy flush spread across Peter’s cheek. It felt good to be sitting with these boys, it felt like he finally had friends. _You’re not going to be in the same house as them_ , he reminded himself sternly. Even so, they hadn’t hated him right away, and if they liked him, surely others would too. _Perhaps things won’t be so bad after all_ , he thought to himself as the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and the boys (minus Peter, who had gone back to the compartment where his luggage was) jumped off the train together, looking around excitedly for the castle they would soon call home.


	15. September 1, 1971 - Sirius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for your patience through a bout of extreme writers block. This chapter just did not want to come out. Sirius is one of my favorite characters to write, but for some reason, I just couldn't seem to access him on the train. In other news, I am rather dreading writing Peter's version of this, as he's by far my least favorite of the four to write, but I am excited to introduce you all to some new characters. Hopefully it won't take quite this long to get the next chapter up, but I make no promises. But don't give up on me! This story continues! And will continue, probably for a very long time, as I'm rather fond of it.  
> Anywayyyyyy, as always, thank you so much to all you brilliant loves who read this, and extra big thank yous to everyone who comments/reblogs/replies/whatever, you are all the best. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

It was nearly 3 in the morning as Sirius repacked his suitcase for the twelfth time, turning it on its end and emptying the contents of the floor. He rummaged through all the clothes and sorted them into piles once more – one for clothes his parents would hate, and one for clothes that the school required, and a very small pile for clothes his parents would approve of that he thought might be useful. The pile of items which his parents would hate was by far the largest. He eyed it carefully and tried to consider how much of it he should actually bring with him – he would have to wear his uniforms all week when he was in class, so that really only left weekends for other clothes, and with the amount he had in that pile, he could wear a different shirt each Saturday and Sunday until Christmas without having to wash any of them. But the ones that he didn’t bring were likely to be set on fire by his vile mother the moment he left the house, and he just couldn’t have that.

5 o’clock came and went, and when Sirius had finished packing his bag, he paced his bedroom impatiently, glancing at the clock on his nightstand every few seconds and waiting for the time to pass. There was nothing he wanted more desperately than for the clock to read 8:00, so he could go downstairs and join his family for the last breakfast he would have to endure with them for _months_ , and then depart for the train station. The thought of not having to see his parents again, not having to talk to them, not having to have any contact with them whatsoever made his heart so light, Sirius thought he might explode with glee, and as he felt like the happiness might be too much for him, the lights flickered, and he got the sense rushing air. It was like being caught in a heavy gale, but there was no wind. Sirius didn’t quite realize what was happening until he looked out the heavily curtained window and noticed the sun beginning to rise, the sky lightening faster than it should have. He glanced over at the clock at saw the minutes ticking by quickly, first 6 o’clock, then 7, finally coming to rest at 8. Birds were chirping outside, and he could hear his parents down in the sitting room, ordering Kreacher to make a full English breakfast for such an important morning. He raced out of his room and down the stairs, not bothering to change out of his ratty band t-shirt and jeans. For one last morning, he could tolerate his mother’s snide remarks about his clothes.

Sirius burst into the sitting room and found his mother, already dressed in fine velvet robes of emerald, a silver snake brooch pinned at her throat, sipping on her morning tea. His father preferred coffee as he sat by a small table, reading the morning’s issue of the Daily Prophet.

“Sirius,” his father greeted without looking up from his newspaper.

“Sit, eat,” his mother commanded, and for once, he did as he was told without arguing, happily digging in to the tray of food that Kreacher had just arrived with.

Regulus appeared as Sirius was rising from his seat, ready to hurry them out the door and off, and Sirius sat back down, grumbling to himself and tapping his foot restlessly as he waited for his younger brother to finish his breakfast. It seemed to Sirius like Regulus was intentionally taking forever to eat, and he was sure that he wasn’t imagining the wicked grin on his little brother’s face as he took a second helping of bacon.

At last, Regulus had finished his breakfast and Orion had finished his newspaper, and Sirius bounced up and down as he tried to usher them out of the house as quickly as possible (although Walburga stubbornly took her time, insisting that ladies of her stature never rushed). Orion eyed his oldest son and chuckled warmly, and for the first time ever, Sirius felt like his parents might like him, or at least, might not hate him. He knew why too, though he didn’t want to think of him. When he arrived at Hogwarts, his would undoubtedly be placed in Slytherin, like every other member of his family for generations, and his parents would be proud of him. He would look forward to it if only the thought of being in Slytherin didn’t make him feel sick. Sirius didn’t feel much like a Slytherin, just like most days he didn’t feel much like a Black. He pushed the thought away and tried to smile again, reminding himself that Slytherin or not, he would be at Hogwarts, with new friends and no parents.

Like most pureblood families, the Blacks did not own a car (or anything else Muggle produced), and travelled to Kings Cross via magical means. For Sirius, that meant taking hold of his father’s arm, gripping tightly as the older man twisted on the spot, making him feel as though he were being pressed through a steel straw. All at once, his lungs and the world expanded, and he found himself on Platform 9 ¾, gazing around him in awe at the throngs of people who were already there, filling the space with a loud thrumming, like the air itself was alive. His mother and brother appeared beside him with a _pop_ , and it was all Sirius could do not to run off without them in his excitement.

“Right, well,” Orion Black started, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes and rocking back on his heels.

“Are you leaving already?” Sirius asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Why on earth would we stay?” his mother answered, looking at him reproachfully. Sirius felt his heart drop, but he merely scolded himself mentally for expecting anything more from his parents. “Now behave yourself, remember that you’re representing the Black family now. Act appropriately. We’ll send you some Slytherin things as soon as we get the letter from Professor Slughorn.”

Sirius sighed and nodded as she brushed some imagined dust off his clothes.

“Make us proud,” Orion added, and again Sirius nodded, feeling too much like his throat has swollen shut to say anything more.

“See ya,” Regulus grinned, and it looked to Sirius like his younger brother was quite giddy at the prospect of being rid of him. He hoped it was just excitement that it was finally time for him to go to Hogwarts than genuine happiness that he wouldn’t have to see him again for months, but Sirius wasn’t entirely sure.

He tightened his grip on his trunk as the three of them stepped back, Regulus grasping his mother’s arm tightly once more, and they disappeared. Sirius stood on the platform alone, glancing left and right. He heaved his trunk onto the train and then climbed back down to watch the other students arriving, trying to catch a glimpse of someone he might know – not that he knew many people his age. He watched as a boy who had to be his year, with messy black hair and a crisp, clean Pink Floyd t-shirt. The other boy looked, to Sirius, like someone who was cool, but perhaps didn’t know how cool they were and thus tried overly hard to be even cooler. He looked around and saw Sirius standing there, and Sirius winked at him playfully as the whistle of the train blew and he clambered on board, where he grabbed his trunk and watched for the other boy.

Sirius only had to walk one door down before he spied the messy haired boy straining to drag his trunk up the steps as the train’s gears clicked into motion. He watched the boy stop and press his fingers to the window of the door, which had closed automatically, waving to his parents, who stood on the platform, waving tearfully back.

“You close to them?” he asked the boy, who turned around and regarded him with a slightly confused expression. “Your parents?”

“They’re all I have,” the boy shrugged, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that he didn’t have the same kind of relationship with his own parents.

“Lucky you, my parents are rubbish,” Sirius smiled, trying to be friendly. He liked the look of this boy. “I’m Sirius by the way.”

“James Potter,” he replied, and they shook hands.

“Do – do you want to find a compartment with me?” Sirius asked nervously, hoping that the other boy would agree. He was feeling a little less than confident now as he looked around at all the older students who knew each other and the first years who had clearly grown up together. Never had he felt more like Frankie First Year.

“Yeah!” James answered, grinning. “You’re a first year too then?”

“Yeah,” Sirius grinned back at James. “I had three older cousins go here though, so I know some of the stuff they’ve told me. Andy told me where the kitchens are so we can get extra food from the house elves that work there!”

“Wicked!” James replied excitedly. “Only if we’re in the same house though, ‘cause you can’t be friends with people outside your house until after you leave.”

Sirius nodded grimly, thinking that the chances of him being in the same house as James were pretty slim – he seemed like a nice boy, not the sort to end up in Slytherin, and with his family, Sirius was all but guaranteed to be wearing the green and silver.

They reached a compartment that held only two passengers – a small red haired girl and a black haired boy who was just as tiny. Just looking at the boy made Sirius skin crawl, and his beady black eyes made Sirius think eerily of his parents.

“Hi,” James said cheerfully, poking his head in. The red haired girl considered him as he continued. “I’m James, this is Sirius.”

“I’m Lily Evans,” she replied, sounding a bit like she was giving the answer to a question on a test as she stood to shake their hands. “This is Severus,” she continued, motioning toward the boy, who had resolutely stayed in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. It was evident that he liked them about as much as Sirius liked him.

“Sorry, Snivellus, did you say?” James quipped, and Sirius thought his jaw hit the floor. He laughed loudly and clutched at his stomach, his eyes watering with mirth. He wasn’t even paying attention when James was shoved angrily out of the compartment. The other boy didn’t look too distressed about it, however, looking over at Sirius and grinning with pleasure. It felt like they had just cemented their friendship. _But only if you’re in the same house…_ said a niggling voice in the back of his mind.

“Good one, James,” he laughed, trying to bury the thought deep in his mind. “The greasy git…”

“Come on, let’s find somewhere else,” the other boy replied, and Sirius let his arm rest around James’ shoulder.

“Look, there’s only one bloke in here,” Sirius said, nodding towards a compartment to their left after they had gone a few meters down the corridor.

They went inside and lifted their trunks onto the luggage racks, each of them helping the other heave his heavy bag up high enough, and then sat down across from each other settling in for the long journey. Sirius eyed the sleeping boy curiously, wondering what his deal was, and how long he had been there to have already fallen asleep.

Eventually, they pulled out a set of Exploding Snap cards and a little table that Sirius’ mother had given him, and he and James began playing a rousing few matches. After an hour, their noise must have finally permeated the sleeping boy’s dreams, as he sat up and groggily rubbed his eyes, his hair ruffled from his position leaning against the window.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Sirius teased, flashing a big grin at the other boy.

“It’s afternoon,” he said blankly, staring out the window instead of looking at them.

“How long were you there?” James asked curiously, although Sirius thought he heard a note of suspicion in his voice. He watched as the boy shrank closer to the window. “You must have gotten here really early if you fell asleep so fast.”

“My parents had to get to work,” he answered, and Sirius could tell it was a lie, but he didn’t push the issue. Everyone was entitled to their secrets, goodness knows he had some of his own. “Why’d you sit here?”

“Everywhere else was full,” James answered with a shrug, and the boy gave a small nod, Sirius noting a curious look in his eyes. “Is it – is it alright that we came in? We didn’t want to wake you –“

“Yes, it’s fine.” Sirius watched him carefully, recognizing the attempt to conceal disappointment so well. He had seen that look too often in the mirror not to know it on someone else’s face.

“What’s your name?” he burst out when James and the other boy said nothing further.

“Remus Lupin,” he answered, and Sirius met his shy smile with a wide grin of his own.

“I’m Sirius, and this is James. Black and Potter, respectively. Do you want to play?” He nodded at the game of Exploding Snap unfolding between himself and James.

“You wouldn’t mind the intrusion?” Remus asked hesitantly, eyeing James with some reserve.

“’Course not, mate,” Sirius barked, and he shot James a meaningful look. Not sure where exactly they stood yet, it was half pleading and half stern, but it got the point across all the same. “Besides, it was us who intruded on you!”

“Yeah, please, come play if you like,” James added, looking between Sirius and Remus, trying to gauge the situation. The boy inched closer to them to join in, although Sirius noted that he still looked at James as though he were nervous. The two of them didn’t seem completely sold on each other yet, but Sirius knew they would come round, after all, he was already quite decided that they would be his best friends. “So, do either of you know what house you’ll be sorted into?”

Sirius felt his stomach drop unpleasantly at the question, it was the one he was most hoping to avoid. Concentrating on the cards in his hand and avoiding looking at the other two boys, Sirius remained resolutely silent.

“My – my dad was in Hufflepuff,” Remus said after a few quiet moments. “I think he wants me to be in Hufflepuff like him, but he always said I was as smart as any Ravenclaw he ever met.”

“Ravenclaw’s pretty good,” Sirius heard James reply, and he seemed to be more than happy to babble on. “My father was a Gryffindor, pretty much the whole Potter family. Mother didn’t go to Hogwarts though, they met after school. I really hope I’m in Gryffindor too. What about you, Sirius?”

“My entire family were in Slytherin, I’m surprised you don’t know,” Sirius answered glumly, keeping his gaze trained on his hands. He didn’t want to see the looks of hatred or disgust that would be on his new friends’ faces. He knew of the Potters by reputation of course, one of the most ancient pureblood families, like his, but they were not the sort to every cross paths with the Blacks. From what he knew, the Potters didn’t align themselves with the purebloods who believed that muggles were inferior, although they didn’t exactly fall in the opposite category either. Mostly, they just kept to themselves. But surely, given this, James would be disgusted with Sirius’ family, and Remus, probably too, since he was obviously not pureblood.

“You’re one of _those_ Blacks,” James said with an air of putting two and two together at last, and Sirius flinched slightly at his words.

“I’m not like them,” Sirius burst out, practically yelling, and fidgeting irritably, practically tearing his cards to pieces in his fingers. “I hate them!”

“Fair enough, mate,” James answered, shrugging, while Remus gave Sirius a smile that looked almost a little relieved.

“You – you don’t care?” Sirius asked them, incredulous. It seemed far too good to be true.

“You aren’t your family,” Remus answered him, slow and deliberate, looking at Sirius as though he really wanted him to understand. And he did. These boys, his _friends_ , they accepted him, and his family didn’t change that. He grinned broadly, a weight lifting a little from his chest.

“You know, Remus, I reckon you are smart enough to be in Ravenclaw,” Sirius laughed, feeling free and relieved and _happy_. If the niggling voice in the back of his mind telling him that they would all be separated soon, once they were sorted, was still there, he ignored it.

They continued their game, along with a steady stream of chatter, most of which was fairly meaningless. The food trolley witch came around and Sirius and James bought piles of sweets, while Remus only bought one chocolate frog, but Sirius saw the way he looked wistfully at the whole stack on the trolley, and he bought several more. It was the first time he had encountered someone who couldn’t just spend money freely, and it was slightly sobering, but Sirius also found that he quite enjoyed buying things for other people. The way Remus’ face lit up when he was handed ten more chocolate frogs was something Sirius wouldn’t soon forget, and he made a mental note to find out what other sweets the boy liked so he could buy those too.

After a while, they heard a skirmish in the halls, and though Sirius was fairly disinterested, James couldn’t seem to contain his curiosity, and opened the door to see what was going on.

“Don’t make me hex your nose off,” a rather large boy threatened, and a titchy first year boy backed away with a frightened squeak.

“I doubt you could,” James said, puffing his chest out and trying to look tough as he stepped out into the hall, and Sirius sighed – he didn’t have a good feeling about this. “You look to be about as clever as a baboon’s backside.”

“I could always just punch your nose off,” the large blond boy sneered, eyeing James with a look that said he would be pretty delighted to follow through with his threat. Noting that James was much smaller than the newcomer, and thinking that it was probably somewhere in the contract of being friends or something that you had to stick up for each other, even when one stupidly picked a fight they couldn’t win, Sirius followed his friend into the corridor, mentally cursing him.

“Not unless you want me to use one of the special Black family curses on you,” he said, trying his best to look very serious and intimidating. With his three older cousins already at Hogwarts, Sirius was willing to bet quite a bit that the right circles would have heard about the secret dark curses the Black family passed down through generations. He was too young, and too out of favor with his parents, to have been taught any of them, but the boy in front of him didn’t know that.

“Black?” the blond said, appraising him. “You’re in the wrong compartment, mate. All the Slytherin families are in the next car.”

“I think I’m just fine where I am, _mate_ ,” Sirius hissed, scowling, a surge of dislike flowing through him. “I suggest you run along back to your little Slytherin buddies, though.”

“You either join us, Black, or you watch your back,” the other boy spat out, giving Sirius, James, and the titchy first year cowering behind them a venomous look before turning and stalking off.

“Nice poem,” Sirius called after him with a derisive snort, before going back into the compartment, looking a little surlier than he had before. He hated playing up his family ties like that, hated using the fact that he was a Black to bully other people, hated that, as much as the other boy had eyed him with dislike, he had also seen a certain respect.

“You can join us, if you want.” Sirius heard James tell the small boy, before he was collapsing across from him once more.

The boy hovered in the doorway, tentative and unsure, and for some reason it irritated Sirius beyond belief. Really, they had just saved his hide, it wasn’t like they were going to eat him or anything.

“Either come in or sod off,” he snapped, focusing once more on the cards in his hand and trying to restart the game they had abandoned midway. “Either way, shut the door.”

The boy, who turned out to be named Peter, joined them, and Sirius dealt out the cards once more to start a new game. They were getting close to Hogwarts now, and his trepidation was mounting considerably with every passing moment. He stayed quiet for most of the rest of the journey, occasionally offering a comment, but silently stewing much more. He got the impression that the others, at least James and Remus, understood (at least partially) his growing anxiety, for they left him to his thoughts, rather than trying to coax him out, and for this he was grateful. He fidgeted more and more as they got closer, his knees bouncing practically as high as his eyes by the time they chugged to a stop in Hogsmeade.


	16. September 1, 1971 - Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don’t really have any notes for this one. I hate writing Peter’s chapters, they’re just so much harder for some reason. Since I introduce some original characters in this chapter, I’d like to remind you that you can find my Marauders Era Fancast at owlways-and-forever(.)tumblr(.)com/marauders-fancast, which has been updated to include the most recent characters.

Peter only just finished packing his trunk five minutes before the Pettigrews were due to leave for Kings Cross, unable to fully accept that it was real, that he would be leaving his family and going to attend a school that would teach him to do magic. He wasn’t exactly excited – Peter had never known a school year without bullying, and he didn’t really see why this one should be any different – but he wasn’t dreading it either. Every time he thought about using his new wand to cast a spell, his stomach filled with a nervous, anticipatory buzzing, as though a hive of bees lived inside him. They arrived at Kings Cross without incident, and Isadora showed them through the barrier, pausing to pat her husband’s shoulder afterward, mildly amused at his dumbstruck expression.

Peter, however, was no longer paying his parents any attention. He was gazing at the scarlet steam engine in front of him like it was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen, and he gave an excited start when its whistle blew, calling all those still on the platform to attention. He scurried aboard the train, only remembering his parents after he was already looking down the corridor for an empty compartment. He rushed back out and gave them both quick hugs before vaulting back onto the train, his trunk in hand. As it pulled away, Peter pressed his hands up against the window, nose practically touching the glass, and though he was more excited than he had been before, he felt the nervous unease creeping upon him once more.

As the train pulled away from London and through rolling hills, Peter forced himself away from the window and off through the corridors, in search of a compartment where he might be welcome. He reached the end of the train and found himself with a choice of either turning around, or picking one of the compartments on either side of him. To the left was a group of frightening looking students, all mean looks and ominous laughter. One of the girls in the group, though small in stature, had several piercings in her ear – most of them black studs – that made Peter feel very intimidated. The compartment on the right, however, had five students who looked more than nice enough, and there appeared to be room for one more. Cautiously, he tapped on the frame of the door and slid it open, poking his head inside as the five occupants gazed up at him.

“Sorry,” Peter began, looking at each of them in turn, “but I was wondering if maybe I could join you?”

“Sure,” one of the three boys shrugged, looking at a girl who Peter thought must be his sister. “I’m Emrys Huft, this is my sister Amryn. Across from her is Gavin, next to him is Calliope, and then Milton. We’re all first years.”

“Me too,” Peter answered, struggling to lift his trunk up into the luggage rack, which was much higher than he could reach. The other boy graciously stood and gave him a hand. “I’m Peter.”

“Any idea which house you’ll be in, Peter?” the boy across from him asked as Peter took his seat next to Emrys. He had chocolatey brown hair and blue-grey eyes that were alert and focused as Peter spoke.

“N-not really,” he stammered, looking down at his shoes to avoid the stares of the others. “My mum is a witch, but my dad’s a muggle, so we didn’t talk about it much.” He didn’t say that the reason they never spoke about Hogwarts was because none of them really thought he would even be able to attend. “I think she was in Hufflepuff though.”

“I wouldn’t mind being in Hufflepuff,” the boy answered, _Milton_ , Peter thought. “Though I think I’d rather be in Ravenclaw. I quite like learning.”

“Do you know how we get Sorted?” the boy called Gavin asked quietly, his eyes wide and anxious, echoing Peter’s own sentiments.

“Our older brother said it’s really difficult and painful,” Emrys’ sister replied, and Peter and Gavin both stared at her in horror.

“Oh no, that’s not true,” Calliope stated, matter-of-factly, throwing her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s very simple, really. There’s some kind of spell that can look into our minds and see what aptitudes we have.”

“And everyone knows what happens after that,” Emrys said, smiling at her, but he saw Gavin shake his head and sighed. “The brave ones go to Gryffindor, the smart ones go to Ravenclaw, the loyal ones go to Hufflepuff, and the ambitious ones go to Slytherin.”

“But what if we’re two of those things?” Gavin asked.

“What if we’re none?” Peter said quietly, almost hoping that none of the others would hear him.

“Well, I suppose they just choose whichever you have the most of,” Emrys replied, after taking a moment to consider the questions. “Or maybe you get to choose.”

“I think I’d choose Gryffindor if I could,” Peter mumbled, feeling self-conscious. “I’d very much like to be brave.”

“You can choose to be brave much more than you can choose to be smart,” Emrys answered, and Calliope nodded seriously across from him.

“But you can study – you can’t exactly do that for bravery or loyalty or ambition,” Milton reasoned, and Amryn nodded in agreement.

“I think we can all agree that nobody wants to be in Slytherin,” she added, and a few of the others voiced their agreement.

“Why not?” Gavin asked, looking a little confused, and everyone gave him curious looks. “Sorry, muggle-born,” he shrugged.

“Slytherins always go bad,” Emrys hissed, throwing a cautious glance at the compartment across the hall. “Bullies and abusers, the lot of them. Plus most of them hate anyone who isn’t pureblood.”

“Elitist, misogynistic pigs, the lot of them,” his sister echoed, her voice laced with distaste.

Peter gulped and cast a dubious glance at the group of students cackling in the other compartment, particularly the girl with the piercings. Something about her made him feel very uneasy. As though she could feel his eyes on her, she turned and stared at him, her lips curling in a sinister smile. She caught the attention of a large, blond boy sitting across from her, and he gave Peter a wicked look, nodding something to the girl before turning his attention back to the others in their compartment.

“Something wrong, Peter?” Amryn asked, noticing the flush that was staining his cheeks.

“No, not at all,” he lied, turning to see the other five first years looking at him curiously.

They continued their mild chatter, talking about nothing particularly consequential, but speculating about what Hogwarts might look like, or what kinds of classes they would be taking. Peter was surprised to find the sky darkening when he looked outside, time having slipped by as they talked. His stomach rumbled a little and he regretted having bought nothing when the woman came by with the trolley earlier. Deciding that he did not want to wait if it could be helped, Peter stood and excused himself from the compartment, sliding the door open and stepping out into the corridor. He was barely three steps down the narrow hall when he heard another door open, and he knew, without turning around, what it was.

“Oi!” a thick-sounding voice called out. Peter recognized the type well – it was the kind of voice that belonged to the brawn-only kind of bully, the one who just wanted to pound people into a pulp. He turned to see the large, blond boy staring at him, feet firmly planted and arms crossed over his chest. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him as the girl with the piercings slid out from behind the boy, her hand trailing down his arm in a seductive, yet commanding, way.

“Now, now, Heino,” she said, and Peter recognized her voice as well – the brains, the kind of bully that could cut you with words more painful than any punch could ever be. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” She smiled, and Peter couldn’t help but feel like it was a threat, particularly as she stepped forward and began circling him. “I’m Salacia Crabbe, and this here is Heino Selwyn. We’ll both be in Slytherin, and I think we’ve decided that we’re going to make your life in the castle a living hell. Bit of a game for us, isn’t it, Heino?”

The boy grunted a laugh, as Peter took a few steps backward, fear and dread creeping into his stomach and making it twist unpleasantly.

“Nothing to say, chubs?” she mocked, and Peter stepped backward again. “That’s boring. Heino, I leave him in your capable hands.”

With that, she turned and walked back to her compartment, flashing one last sinister smile as she entered, and Peter turned his attention back to the boy, who was advancing and cracking his knuckles ominously.

“Right then, let’s see,” Heino growled, and Peter’s back hit the door of the train car, “I think… money for sure, and maybe, yeah, I think a bow would be good. Money and a bow.”

“D-don’t,” Peter squeaked, sliding the door open and stepping into the next car.

“Don’t make me hex your nose off,” he threatened, following Peter through the doorway.

“I doubt you could,” a new voice said, and a boy with messy black hair stepped between Peter and Heino. “You look to be about as clever as a baboon’s backside.”

“I could always just punch your nose off,” Heino sneered, giving the newcomer a gleefully malicious glare, and Peter was surprised he hadn’t just gone ahead and hit him.

“Not unless you want me to use one of the special Black family curses on you,” interrupted another boy, this one with tidier black curls. Peter had no idea what he was talking about, but it hardly seemed to matter, since Heino obviously did.

“Black?” he said, giving him an appraising look. “You’re in the wrong compartment, mate. All the Slytherin families are in the next car.”

“I think I’m just fine where I am, _mate_ ,” the curly-haired boy countered, his words coming out in a hiss of dislike. “I suggest you run along back to your little Slytherin buddies, though.”

“You either join us, Black, or you watch your back,” Heino warned, but he shot the three of them a venomous look before he left, clearly not wanting to test the other boy’s threat.

“Nice poem,” he called after Heino, and Peter gaped at him. _Who was this boy to be provoking the bully that way_?

“You can join us, if you want,” the messy-haired one said to Peter, while the other returned to their compartment without another glance.

Peter stood in the doorway for a moment, debating what to do. He really wanted to get back to the others, but that would mean walking past the compartment with Heino and Salacia, and he had no doubt they would be waiting for him. He wasn’t sure he liked these boys any better, though. The one with the messy hair seemed fine enough, but there was something about the curly-haired boy that felt dangerous.

“Either come in or sod off,” the curly-haired boy snapped at Peter, shuffling a deck of cards rather violently. “Either way, shut the door.”

Peter made a split second decision to join them. For the moment, they posed less of a threat than the others. No matter how dangerous the curly-haired boy might be, they had chosen to protect him, after all, and it seemed unlikely that they would have done that just to go and bully him themselves. He scurried inside and closed the door behind him, taking a seat as far from the curly-haired boy as he could, and eyeing him curiously.

“What’s your name?” a third boy, who Peter had not noticed, asked in a friendly tone.

“Peter,” he answered, very quietly.

“I’m Remus,” the other boy said, reaching out a hand to shake. “That’s Sirius,” he nodded toward the curly-haired boy, “and James. We’re all first years too.”

“How did you know -?” Peter asked, but the messy-haired boy, James, started laughing.

“No offense, mate, but you’re a little titchy, aren’t you?” he chuckled, and Peter felt his cheeks flush. “Bit hard to believe you’re even eleven.”

It was not long until a projected voice announced their imminent arrival at Hogsmeade, whatever that was, and Peter had to scurry back to his original compartment to change into his robes. He saw Salacia and Heino glare at him as he passed, but he was in his compartment too quickly for them to do anything. The others did not approve of his extended departure, and it occurred to him that they might feel as though he had found people that he preferred, but he did not want to tell them the full story then. For all he knew, they would all be in different houses after that evening, and he didn’t want every first year in the school to know about his embarrassing encounter with the bullies. He figured he would tell whichever of them he was Sorted with, and then they would understand and forgive him. The train pulled to a stop, and Peter felt his anxiety increase, but his stomach wasn’t filled with lead as it had been before. Even through his nervousness, he felt an odd sense of certainty now that he had a plan.


	17. The Sorting, James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am absolutely atrocious at writing poems, so try not to laugh too much at me when you read the Sorting Hat's song, it was the best I could do :')

James hopped down from the train, and looked around at the platform, at the dozens of students already milling about and the dozens more pouring from the doors of the train. He felt hopeful, a nervous excitement fluttering in his stomach at the thought of what was about to happen, and he looked over at Sirius to see a similar sentiment reflected in his grey eyes. They grinned at each other and turned around to see Remus step down carefully, his fingers toying nervously with his tie.

“Firs’ years!” called a gruff voice, and the three boys looked up to see the outline of a very large man silhouetted against the night. “Firs’ years over here!”

They quickly made their way toward the voice, a sense of adventure churning in their bellies, and James’ face lit up the moment he saw clearly the man’s face. He had a shaggy black beard and a halo of equally shaggy black hair. A pair of beetle black eyes glittered, nestled among an array of little smile crinkles, as though nothing could make him happier than that moment would. He seemed friendly, and James couldn’t help but trust him on instinct. While most of the other first years gathering stayed back a bit, clearly daunted by the man’s size, James, Sirius, and Remus pushed their way to the front of the group, beaming up at him.

“Righ’ then,” he said after calling out to the crowd for a few more moments, seemingly content that all the first years were standing in front of him. “Name’s Rubeus Hagrid, I’m groundskeeper here at Hogwarts, an’ I’ll be takin’ yeh over to the castle, if yeh’ll jus’ follow me.”

He turned and began walking down a path James hadn’t noticed before, and they scurried forward, eager to follow him before they got lost. James practically had to run to keep up, but when he looked over at Sirius, loping along beside him, he saw a wide grin on the other boy’s face. They finally came to a stop a few minutes later at the edge of a wide expanse of water, the surface a deep, velvety black. There were no stars to be seen reflecting on its surface, instead a blanketing of dark clouds that promised rain in the near future. A small fleet of wooden rowboats hovered on the edge of the water, waiting for passengers to carry forward.

“Alrigh’, in yeh get!” Rubeus Hagrid called out in his booming voice, and the first years all scrambled forwards toward the boats.

As James and Remus clambered into a boat at the front of the fleet, Sirius waded out into the water, soaking his robes as he went, the black fabric fanning out behind him.

“Oi! Wha’ d’yeh think yer doin’?” the groundskeeper bellowed, and James could have sworn the ground shook beneath his feet.

“You said to get in,” Sirius shrugged, the black water rippling around his waist as he turned to stare at the larger man with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“In ter the boats!” Hagrid shouted, his face turning red with frustration, while several first years tittered with laughter. James couldn’t help but contain his smile. This boy was an absolute genius.

“Well, you should have specified,” Sirius replied smartly, wading back toward James and Remus and hopping lightly into their boat. He sat next to the blonde girl who had joined them, and she gave him a wary look as water dripped from his robes onto the wooden bench, but Sirius merely grinned at them.

“Why on earth would you do something like that?” the girl asked, her voice a mixture of reproach and incredulity.

“Why not?” Sirius shrugged, and she gaped back at him, at a loss for words.

“Our Sirius here is a bit of a rebel,” James added, flashing Sirius a conspiratorial grin. He could already tell that they were going to have a fun year.

“Ignore them,” Remus smiled kindly at her. “I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Georgiana,” she answered, smiling in the direction of her feet as she tucked a long, blonde curl behind her ear.

Bored with their stupid simpering at each other, James turned his attention back to the landscape around them, and he saw a glowing light at the edge of the water, just around a thickly forested bend. He looked up just in time to see a grand castle emerge on the horizon, and he quickly kicked Sirius so he would not miss the sight. There was a collective sigh of awe as the other students took in, for the first time, the castle that would be their home. James felt his heart leap with excitement, but when he looked over at Sirius, he saw that the other boy’s confident smile had faltered. He couldn’t imagine what was going through his friend’s mind that would prompt such a reaction, as his own feelings could only be described as elation.

The boats slowly drew closer to the edge of the lake, before finally dragging across the soft silt and bumping lightly to a stop. James was out of the boat and splashing up to the lawn before anyone else had even begun to climb out. He stood on the grass gazing up at the lights shining from the many thousands of windows, a large beam of light spilling forth from the open doors. Even from such a distance, it was obvious that the large doors were enormous, easily the size of several tall adults standing on each others shoulders. Dimly, he noted that his feet were feeling very dry, despite his enthusiastic splashing as he jumped from the boat, and he thought there must have been a charm on the edge of the lake that kept them all dry.

“Now that’s a castle,” Sirius whistled in James’ ear, and he turned and grinned at his friend.

“C’mon,” James said, bumping against Sirius’ shoulder.

They proceeded up the lawn at a run, ignoring the groundskeeper’s protests. As they neared the open doors, a tall, dark figure stepped forward, a shadow blocking the light, and James felt his stomach dip. Something about the way this individual held themselves told him it was not a person to be messed with. He and Sirius stepped into the light spilling forth from the doorway and were close enough to see the person standing in there up close. She was a rather fierce looking woman, her sharp green eyes taking in everything without exception. She wore deep crimson robes with gold along the edge, and a matching crimson hat, and stood with a rod-straight back and her hands tightly clasped in front of her. She did not smile as they jogged closer, though James thought he saw her eyes light up with a touch of curiosity and mirth.

“Enthusiastic, aren’t we?” she asked tartly, when the two boys finally drew to a halt in front of her, breathing heavily.

“It’s an exciting day,” James grinned in return, and he could have sworn he saw the corners of her thin lips twitch up as she hummed in response.

The rest of the first years gathered around Sirius and James before long, though several flashed the two boys curious looks.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” the woman said, looking out among the crowd assembled before her. “I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, and professor of Transfiguration. You will all follow me into the Great Hall momentarily, where you will be sorted into your new houses. The sorting is very important, as you will eat, sleep, and take classes with your house, so I suggest you do not take the matter lightly. Now, please form a line, two abreast.”

The eleven-year-olds scrambled to arrange themselves in line, behind James and Sirius, who naturally were the first two.

“Follow me.”

Professor McGonagall marched through the doors and up a grand marble staircase, the shuffling of dozens of first year feet echoing in the hall behind her. A grand set of doors swung open as she approached, and James could just see four long tables crowded with students in identical robes. As they processed through, James looked around – at each table sat nearly a hundred students, all turned to watch the first years walk through, and table runners in the colors of each house stretch below house banners. He fixated on the Gryffindor table, decked out in red and gold, to his far right. James was so intent on imagining his future at that table, he nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself on Sirius sleeve at the last moment. The entire group reached the front of the hall, and fanned out, all facing the staff table and, in front of it, a stool with a wrinkly old hat perched on top. As the entire hall grew quiet, the hat split open at a seam, and words poured forth as through it were a strange kind of mouth.

_Oh I’m not just a hat_

_I’m much more than that_

_I’m the one who’ll decide your future_

_I’ll look in your brain_

_See what it contains_

_Decide what makes you peculiar_

_Courage for the Gryffindor_

_Who cowardice abhors_

_And seeks to prove their daring_

_These brave young chaps_

_Will have your back_

_And protect you without caring_

_Intelligence for Ravenclaw_

_Who leave all else in awe_

_Of all their knowledge and creativity_

_A touch unconventional_

_And never dull_

_And always smarter than thee_

_Loyalty for the Hufflepuff_

_Those friendly folk are tough_

_And put their loved ones first_

_Though a welcoming bunch_

_Have a hunch_

_A threat will get you cursed_

_Ambition for the Slytherin_

_They do like a good win_

_In games, and sports, and school, its true_

_If you want to get ahead_

_In life don’t be misled_

_Follow my advice and seek to join this crew_

_Now try me on_

_I don’t bite much_

_And see where you belong_

The hat finished its song to an outburst of applause, and James shared and incredulous grin with Sirius.

“When I call your name, you will step forward, and the hat will sort you into your house,” Professor McGonagall declared in a booming voice. “When you have been sorted, you will join your house at its table.”

James felt a nervous twinge in his stomach.

“Barrington, Rosaline!” Professor McGonagall called, and a small girl with dark hair and a narrow face stepped forward.

“Gryffindor!” the hat called out after a moment, and Rosaline scurried of to join the applauding Gryffindor table.

“Black, Sirius!” Professor McGonagall cried out, and James looked over to give his friend an encouraging smile. Sirius looked uncomfortably pale as he shuffled forward.

The hat sat on Sirius’ head for a long moment, covering his eyes and making his long curls stick out in odd directions. There was complete silence in the hall as everyone waited for the hat to make its decision.

“Gryffindor!” it shouted at last, and James whooped louder than anyone else in the hall. It was partly his enthusiasm and excitement for his friend, and partly the lack of enthusiastic applause from anyone else. Though the Gryffindor table applauded politely, there were clearly more than a few people who were stunned into silence. As Sirius walked slowly toward the Gryffindor table, James thought he saw a mixture of pride and anxiety in his eyes. Once more, James could not understand what was going through his friend’s head, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

“Evans, Lily!” James’ head whipped around so fast he nearly cricked his neck, and he watched the red-haired girl from the train take a deep breath and step forward, as though it were the biggest moment of her life.

“Gryffindor!” the hat proclaimed, only a few moments after she had sat down. Once more, the Gryffindor table erupted, and Lily pranced off to join it, sitting next to Rosaline and tossing Sirius a dirty glare. It was going to be a long seven years, James thought. Lily seemed to hate him and Sirius already, and yet he felt an incomprehensible need to get to know her tug at his belly.

“Huft, Amryn!” turned out to be a pudgy, blonde haired girl, and the hat declared her a Hufflepuff after nearly five minutes of contemplation. Her twin brother, “Huft, Emrys!” was sent to the Ravenclaw table after much less consideration.

James’ mind started wandering back to the Gryffindor table, and he found himself wondering about Professor McGonagall. As much as she gave of the air of sternness and rigidity, James had a sneaking feeling that she was more pleasant than she seemed, as though she were someone who liked to have fun in secret. Perhaps she loved to dance, or sing, or perhaps even play Quidditch. She looked as though she could have been a good chaser in her younger days, she had the physique for it.

“Lupin, Remus!” she called, and James was startled as he felt Remus shift next to him. He looked as uncomfortable as Sirius had, and James silently wondered whether there was something about having your name called that instantly made you feel sick to your stomach.

Remus was the longest of any of the students so far to sit on the stool and wait for his house to be called. James tried to flash him reassuring smiles, but Remus kept his eyes firmly shut. His lips moved ever-so-slightly, as though he were having a conversation with the hat, but no house name came forth. In a moment of weakness, James wondered if maybe it was possible for the hat to decide that you didn’t belong at Hogwarts after all.

“Gryffindor!” the hat yelled, just as the students were starting to get fidgety, craning their necks to see the boy who was having so much trouble being sorted.

“Nott, Olegario!” was called up the moment Remus had reached his seat, and an olive-skinned, mean-looking boy was sorted into Slytherin in a matter of seconds.

“O’Frighill, Firmin!” was called forward next, and a thin, gangly boy with dark hair and freckles stepped forward, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste. The entire hall tittered, as he crammed the hat over his head. It slipped down around his ears, only kept up by his thin nose.

“Gryffindor!” the hat called, and James raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Firmin O’Frighill just didn’t exude _Gryffindor_ , in his opinion, and he wondered vaguely why the hat had placed him there. As he did, his stomach twisted unpleasantly, a most unwelcome thought popping into his mind. What if there were only a certain number of spots in each house? What if too many people had already been sorted into Gryffindor, and now there wasn’t enough room for him? He looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Rosaline, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Firmin, and a few others chatted animatedly with the other Gryffindors around them.

“Pettigrew, Peter!” called Professor McGonagall, and James recognized the small boy from the train as he scurried forward. Like Remus, Peter took a very long time, and James found it very hard to stand still as the hat deliberated.

“Gryffindor!” it pronounced at last, and James felt his heart sink slightly. One less spot in Gryffindor. Still, he had to be up next.

“Plourde, Lumina!” Professor McGonagall proclaimed, and James frowned. Perhaps one more. A blonde girl stepped forward, and James thought it might have been the girl from their boat, but he really couldn’t be sure. Something about her name seemed off.

“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted, and Lumina Plourde flounced off toward the Gryffindor table with a wide grin, while James tried hard not to let out an audible groan.

“Potter, James!”

His name had never sounded so wonderful to him as when it issued forth from Professor McGonagall, and the whole hall fell into a hush around him. He walked forward and sat on the stool, and it felt like the world was moving in slow motion as he waited for Professor McGonagall to place the hat on his head. As soon as he felt the weight of the cloth, something probed his mind, as though there were suddenly another consciousness in his brain.

“So, little James Potter…” a wheezy voice hissed in his ear, and James jumped in surprise, glancing around for the source before realizing that no one else could hear it. “What shall we do with you?”

_Please put me in Gryffindor_ , James thought as hard as he could. _I want to be in Gryffindor._

“Yes, yes, I can see how much you desire Gryffindor, but is it best?” the hat mused. “You certainly have the characteristics, but I wonder if you might flourish elsewhere… No, it does seem that Gryffindor would be best… alright then…”

“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted, and James thought he might go deaf from the volume of it as it echoed around his ears.

James vaulted from the stool, barely remembering to leave the hat behind, and rushed off to the Gryffindor table, sliding into the seat next to Sirius, who beamed at him. Remus and Peter sat across the table, clapping enthusiastically along with the others. James felt as though his heart would burst out of his chest at any moment, he was so happy. He couldn’t wait to get hear his parents’ reactions to the news. He imagined his father twirling his mother around in the sitting room, their laughter spilling forth as they raised glasses of wine to toast their son.

“Snape, Severus!”

The name brought James’ attention back to the Great Hall, and he turned to watch Lily as she watched her friend approach the stool. He noticed her fingers crossed on the heavy oak of the table, squeezing so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“Slytherin!” the hat called out.

James watched as Lily’s face fell, disappointment written on her features for a second, before she erased it and replaced it with a determined smile, clapping enthusiastically for Severus when he turned to look wistfully at her.

“Right, well, thank goodness Snivellus isn’t in our house,” James heard Sirius say as though from a distance, his eyes still focused on Lily. “I don’t think I could stomach his grease all over the dormitory.”

“Yeah,” James replied distractedly, before he shook his head to clear his mind and turned his attention back to those around him.

“Yaxley, Aleris!”, a freckled boy with wild eyebrows, was the last to be sorted, joining several others in Slytherin with a wicked grin.

“Good evening, good evening,” boomed a man James could only presume to be the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. As he rose from his throne-like chair, everyone who was talking promptly ceased, waiting to hear what he might have to say. “I would like to make a very important announcement – dinner is ready!”

He sat once more, and the Great Hall was filled with noise, as a multitude of dishes appeared out of nowhere on the tables in front of them. James watched in awe as the older students tucked in as though nothing strange had happened. Apparently the sudden appearance of food was par for the course at Hogwarts. He piled food high on his plate, unable to resist the lure of more of his favorites, and the excitement of his first ever meal at Hogwarts, which only seemed to amplify his hunger. One bite into the meal, all thoughts of anything else were immediately drowned out by one echoing sentiment. _This is going to be amazing._


	18. The Sorting, Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write, I absolutely love writing little Remus. And writing his first crush! Poor boy, he's got no idea what's coming... *cackles mischievously* I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and I apologize if the ending seems a bit rushed, to be honest, I got tired and wanted to go to bed. Sorry! Again, please try not to laugh too hard at my dismal attempt at the Sorting Hat's song, I tried my best, and though I may like to think I'm a decent writer, I make no such claims about being a poet.

Remus followed the other two boys out of the train, tarrying as long as possible and fixing and readjusting his tie endlessly. He couldn't help the knot of anxiety that seemed to be growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Firs' years!" shouted a very rough-sounding voice, and Remus turned to see a larger than average man swinging a lantern on the platform. "Firs' years over here!"

As they made their way to the front of the crowd of first years around the man, Remus took in his features – his shaggy black mane and beetle-black eyes that glittered with the lantern light. He knew right away that this man in front o him was different, a half-breed, many would call him, though there seemed nothing _half_ about him. Remus hated the word, having had it spat in his face more times than he could count. But there was no denying that this man was, well, like him, and Remus felt an immediate connection with him for it.

"Righ' then," the man said, when he was satisfied that all the first years had gathered around. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid, I'm groundskeeper here at Hogwarts, an' I'll be takin' yeh over to the castle, if yeh'll jus' follow me."

Rubeus Hagrid turned and started walking down a well-worn footpath, away from the lights of Hogsmeade. Remus followed hurriedly, running to keep up with him, Sirius and James not far behind.

"I'm Remus, Remus Lupin," he piped up in the direction of the man's face, which seemed leagues away from his own, nearly engulfed in the darkness of the night.

"Ah, so yeh're the little Lupin," Hagrid answered, looking down at Lupin with a grin that crinkled the corner of his eyes. "Been wonderin' which one yeh were."

"You know -?"

"Aye, Dumbledore's told me everything," he interjected. "Who d'yeh think has been helping get the school ready for yeh?"

"I'm sorry if I've caused you any trouble," Remus said sadly, feeling bad that this man had spent the summer preparing for his arrival.

"Yeh haven' caused any trouble," Hagrid asserted forcefully. "It's no more'n a kid like yeh deserves."

"Thank you," Remus answered quietly, touched by his words.

They came to a stop as the path widened to a narrow pebbly beach at the edge of a deep black lake. Velvety clouds kept the stars from reflecting any light, so the surface of the water appeared nearly as black as tar. Several rowboats drifted at the bank, waiting to carry the first years across the lake.

"Alrigh', in yeh get!" Hagrid shouted to the mass of eleven year olds.

As Remus climbed into one of the nearer boats with James, Sirius stepped into the lake itself, walking forward into the frigid water.

"Oi! Wha' d'yeh think yer doin'?" the groundskeeper bellowed, and Remus shook his head, silently hoping that Sirius did not end up in the same house as him, because he had no doubt that this boy would get him into big trouble.

"Excuse me," a small voice said, and Remus turned his attention away from Sirius' antics. A small girl with long blonde curls stood before him, her fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the boat. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Of course not," Remus answered, his heart beating very fast in his chest, and he offered her his hand to take as she climbed in, sitting right across from him.

"Well, you should have specified," Sirius mumbled with a distinct attitude as he leapt into the boat, dripping water everywhere.

"Why on earth would you do something like that?" the girl asked, echoing Remus' thoughts.

"Why not?" Sirius replied with a shrug, and Remus watched her jaw drop, and he smiled a little at her incredulity.

"Our Sirius here is a bit of a rebel," James said, and he grinned at Sirius like he was already planning a slew of mischievous activities for them.

"Ignore them," Remus remarked with a roll of his eyes, and he offered her a smile. "I don't think I caught your name?"

"Georgiana," she replied, and he looked at the floor, smiling shyly, and he couldn't help but smile at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Georgiana," he answered, reaching out his hand to shake hers. "I'm Remus, those two idiots are James and Sirius."

"Do you all know each other already?" she asked, looking a little intimidated by the easy friendship that had blossomed between James and Sirius.

"No, we just met on the train," Remus said, glancing over at the other two boys. "I don't know anyone here yet, I wasn't really raised around other magical kids."

"I only know Clara," Georgiana answered, looking over at a boat a few away from them. "We've been best friends our whole lives. Neither of us has magical parents, but we both ended up being witches, isn't that odd?"

"How come you aren't sitting with them?" he inquired, noting the wistful look on her face.

"Oh, we just…" she looked down at her hands, her fingers picking at a thread in her robes. "Clara wanted to get to know other people. She's pretty certain she'll be in Ravenclaw, you see, but she doesn't think I'm smart enough, so she thinks we'll be separated."

"That's horrible, her pushing you aside that way," he asserted, reacting to the tears that shone in her eyes.

"No, it's not, really, I understand," Georgiana said, blinking the tears away and smiling. "It just makes her nervous, she doesn't make friends easily, it'll be harder for her, us being separated, than it will be for me."

"But you might be in Ravenclaw after all," Remus told her, but she shook her head with a sad sort of smile.

"Oh no, she's right about that. I'm not smart enough." She looked up at the clouds rolling and tumbling in the sky. "It's alright, I don't mind. I'm good at other things."

"Yes," he said, thinking to himself that she was kind, and beautiful, and wise in a way that books could not teach.

The boats bumped into the silt at the edge of the lake and came to a stop with their prows just touching the long blades of grass that grew there. Remus looked up to see a great, sloping lawn that led to the most beautiful castle he had ever seen. He wasn't sure how he'd missed it when it had first come into view, but now he simply couldn't take his eyes of the huge stone turrets with twinkling yellow lights. He wondered idly where inside the great expanse he would call home, where he would sleep, and study, and spend time with friends. _If he even made any_. The vile thought niggled in the back of his mind, but as he watched James and Sirius splash through the edge of the water and start running up the lawn, he pushed it away.

"Righ', everyone ready?" Hagrid asked, as he clambered out of his own boat and proceeded up the lawn after James and Sirius, beckoning the others to follow.

With an enthusiastic grin at Georgiana, Remus set off after Hagrid at a light jog. She kept pace beside him, her long blonde curls flying out behind her, and they both laughed as they ran. The two of them came to a stop at the doorway of the castle, in front of a tall, sharp-looking woman in crimson and gold robes, her hair tied up in a clean knot at the nape of her neck.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said when they had all arrived. "I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, and professor of Transfiguration. You will all follow me into the Great Hall momentarily, where you will be sorted into your new houses. The sorting is very important, as you will eat, sleep, and take classes with your house, so I suggest you do not take the matter lightly. Now, please form a line, two abreast."

They all hurried to form a line, Remus and Georgiana second behind James and Sirius.

"Follow me," Professor McGonagall commanded, turning to march through the doors.

Inside, there was a grand marble staircase, atop which stood magnificent oak double doors, fifty feet high. They all shuffled through behind her, and inside the hall, they found four tables nearly the length of the room, all occupied by nearly a hundred students in black robes. Remus saw glittering gold plates on each table, with colourful runners stretched beneath them. He saw James' gaze ahead of him fixate on the red and gold table to the right, while Sirius looked the other way, at the green and silver table on the left. They reached the front of the hall, which was home to a raised dais where the teachers' table stood, and in front of them, was a rickety stool and an old hat. The hall stilled, every student waiting for something to happen, and then the hat split open at the seam to form a mouth, and began singing.

_Oh I'm not just a hat_

_I'm much more than that_

_I'm the one who'll decide your future_

_I'll look in your brain_

_See what it contains_

_Decide what makes you peculiar_

_Courage for the Gryffindor_

_Who cowardice abhors_

_And seeks to prove their daring_

_These brave young chaps_

_Will have your back_

_And protect you without caring_

_Intelligence for Ravenclaw_

_Who leave all else in awe_

_Of all their knowledge and creativity_

_A touch unconventional_

_And never dull_

_And always smarter than thee_

_Loyalty for the Hufflepuff_

_Those friendly folk are tough_

_And put their loved ones first_

_Though a welcoming bunch_

_Have a hunch_

_A threat will get you cursed_

_Ambition for the Slytherin_

_They do like a good win_

_In games, and sports, and school, its true_

_If you want to get ahead_

_In life don't be misled_

_Follow my advice and seek to join this crew_

_Now try me on_

_I don't bite much_

_And see where you belong_

When the hat finished, with a little twitch that could be called a bow, the hall erupted in applause, and Remus looked over at Georgiana to see her face lit up with delight.

"When I call your name, you will step forward, and the hat will sort you into your house," Professor McGonagall announced in a carrying voice. "When you have been sorted, you will join your house at its table." She paused briefly and looked around, before unfurling the scroll in her hands and reading the first name. "Arandur, Artemis!"

A thin girl with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes stepped forward, and confidently sat on the stool. Remus held his breath as he waited for the hat to give its verdict, and it took longer than he expected, but at last it opened its mouth once more.

"Slytherin!" it shouted, and the green and silver table applauded enthusiastically as she joined them.

"Areleous, Thyra!" Professor McGonagall called.

This time it was a short, petite girl with timid looking eyes that stepped forward. She seemed nervous about the sorting process, but unlike the girl before her, the hat took almost no time at all in sorting her.

"Slytherin!" it shouted again, and she joined the other girl at the far table.

Remus watched as the smaller girl sat at the Slytherin table, and he saw something in her eyes, as though she were merely acting like the frightened little girl she had appeared to be moments earlier. He had chills just looking at her, at the look in her eyes that told him that she was, or one day would be, someone to be wary of, someone to fear.

"Black, Sirius!" Professor McGonagall said, and Remus dragged his eyes away from the Slytherin table to watch the Sorting.

Sirius looked very green as he approached the stool, flashing a hesitant glance over at the Slytherin table as the hat was placed on his head. Remus couldn't tell if it actually took ages for the hat to decide or if it just felt like it, but at last the hat reached a decision.

"Gryffindor!"

The hall was quieter than it had been for the others, only a few at the Gryffindor table remembering to applaud, and there were no cheers for him. He made his way to the red and gold covered table, and Remus thought he might have been shaking. When he looked over at the Slytherin table, he saw a number of angry looking faces, and more than one that looked positively mutinous. Remus looked back at Sirius, and tried to offer him an encouraging smile, though he hardly expected his opinion to be much comfort at all.

He turned his attention back to the front in time to hear Campbell, Lance become a Gryffindor. The boy swaggered toward the Gryffindor table with a supreme amount of confidence, but he stayed well clear of Sirius, settling instead by some older students, who happily thumped him on the back.

"Crabbe, Salacia!" Professor McGonagall called, and Remus saw a tough looking girl step forward. He would easily believe that she could beat him up if she wanted to, despite her short, skinny stature. He was unsurprised when the hat sent her to join the Slytherin table, though he inwardly reprimanded himself for such stereotypical thoughts.

"Are you as nervous as I am?" Georgiana whispered in his ear, making him jump a little. He had almost forgotten that she was standing next to him.

"I'm terrified," he muttered back, entirely honestly.

His stomach felt like it had been inhabited by a very active snake, slithering and coiling to and fro, and the silver serpent on the Slytherin banners was not helping matters. He kept imagining the hat sending him home, saying that they had made a mistake in bringing him here in the first place. He imagined being Sorted and no one clapping, no one wanting to let him sit next to them, as though they could smell what he was. He knew it was impossible, there was no way anyone could know, yet at least. How long it would take the bright students he would likely be sharing a dormitory with to figure it out though… Georgiana saw the look of terror that had come over his face and reached out, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing. The simple act calmed him tremendously, enough to allow him to focus once more on the Sorting, after flashing her a grateful smile.

"Faulkner, Mirabelle!" Professor McGonagall beckoned, and a tall girl with skin like creamy milk chocolate stepped forward, grinning confidently at the room.

"Gryffindor!" the hat proclaimed, though it had barely touched her head, and she hopped off the stool and happily went to join Lance Campbell at the Gryffindor table.

Idly, Remus wondered whether or not it was possible that he would be Sorted to any other house but Ravenclaw. He had never really considered it. He loved to learn so much, was so curious, that he and his father had always just assumed that it would be Ravenclaw. He was not ambitious, of that he was certain. Indeed, Remus wanted nothing more than to live a quiet life in which he was, more or less, left to his own devices. He thought he was compassionate enough to maybe be in Hufflepuff, he had certainly enjoyed taking care of his sister and would go to great pains to protect her. Maybe he could choose to be in Hufflepuff instead, that seemed like the most likely place for Georgiana to be. He didn't really think of himself as brave though, certainly he did not feel brave in that moment, but then, when had he ever really had occasion to be brave before?

"Kendrick, Calliope!"

Remus watched as the little girl sat on the stool, nervously waiting for the hat to announce her house. As it considered, her foot twitched back and forth, bouncing her leg under her robes, and her fingers tapped out a rhythm on her knee.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat announced, and the girl seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she slid off the stool.

She looked nice enough, very quiet, very studious. Perhaps he could be friends with her if he did get sent to Ravenclaw, Remus considered.

"Laurent, Georgiana!" Professor McGonagall called, and Remus suddenly felt the hand in his tug free as Georgiana stepped forward to be Sorted. She gave him one last smile before the hat was dropped onto her head, and she closed her eyes. It did not take long for it to decide.

"Hufflepuff!" it shouted, and Remus nodded. It was as he suspected. She smiled happily as she made her way to the table that was decorated in yellow and black, right next to the Gryffindor table.

"Lupin, Remus!" Professor McGonagall boomed, and Remus suddenly felt his heart pounding in his throat. It was time.

He stepped forward, though the distance between him and the stool seemed to be growing, right up until the moment that his hand touched the worn wood, and he sat down, unsure whether the hall was really as quiet as it seemed or if he had simply gone deaf from nerves.

 _Well, well, Mr. Lupin,_ a small voice said in his head, and Remus closed his eyes. Images of himself when he was younger flashed through his mind, reading under the bed sheets with a flashlight, telling his father creature facts at dinner, trying to control his little outbursts of magic. _It seems that Ravenclaw might be a good fit for you_.

 _Yes, I'd like that_ , Remus thought back, though he wasn't quite sure if the hat could hear him, as such.

 _Or perhaps Gryffindor…_ the hat thought, and Remus felt that if it had a body, the hat would have been tapping its chin.

 _But I'm not brave,_ he answered, confused.

 _You are more brave than you know. Just being here requires a great deal of courage,_ the hat explained. _Yes, I think Gryffindor would do you good._

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted, before Remus could object, though he was not really sure he wanted to.

The hall was applauding loudly, the Gryffindor students enthusiastically cheering and shouting at him in welcome. Sirius was making the biggest racket of them all. As he took his seat across from Sirius, he looked over at Georgiana. She gave him a wide grin, as though she were thoroughly proud of him for being Sorted into Gryffindor, and he gave her a sad smile in return, waving slightly. They would not be together after all then.

"Pettigrew, Peter!" was called, and Remus recognized the titchy little boy from the train.

It took the hat an abominably long time to decide what to do with him, but in the end it announced Gryffindor, and Remus cheered along with the rest of them. He felt very free now that his own Sorting was over, and he no longer had to worry about passing some kind of test to determine his future. Peter slid into the seat next to him, and Remus smiled welcomingly before returning his attention to the Sorting. James had just been called forward, and he looked about as green as Sirius had earlier, though Remus thought he hardly had to worry. If what he had said on the train was true, he was a Gryffindor for generations, and Remus highly doubted that trend would break now.

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted after a few moments, and Remus nodded, clapping along with the others at the table and James plopped down next to Sirius, grinning broadly.

Remus only paid sporadic attention then, too caught up in the conversation around him and his stomach growling to notice much. He knew that Sanders, Milton, and Tolbert, Aldric, both went to Ravenclaw, but he found he no longer cared quite as much where people went, now that he had found his own place.

"Williams, Clara!" Professor McGonagall called, and the name caught Remus' attention. She must be the friend of Georgiana's. Intrigued and curious to see whether or not she'd be sorted into Ravenclaw as she expected, Remus watched carefully. She looked like Georgiana's opposite – her long curls were dark, a chocolate brown, rather than blonde, and her features were more severe, though she still looked as innocent as her friend. In truth, she was very pretty, he thought, but he found it difficult to look past the way she had completely abandoned her best friend.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat announced, and Remus shook his head, unsurprised.

He looked down at the sparkling golden plates and really wished that food would just magically appear. He was so hungry, and Sirius had prattled on and on about the feast during the train ride. As though he had read Remus' mind, Dumbledore stood, instantly quieting the entirety of the student body, who expectantly awaited his words.

"Good evening, good evening," he boomed, a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. "I would like to make a very important announcement – dinner is ready!"

As soon as he sat, the dishes appeared full of every conceivable kind of food, and Remus had to take a moment to appreciate the wonder of it all before he could begin filling his plate. _Absolutely magical,_ he thought to himself, _this is going to be absolutely magical._


	19. The Sorting, Sirius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I posted on my tumblr page that I'm in a bit of a semi-hiatus with writing right now, because I need to focus on my thesis at the moment, so I'm kind of not writing a ton at the moment. But I've worked on this chapter in fits and starts over the last couple months, and I finally got it finished and ready to go. It's a very introspective Sirius, which I enjoyed writing. We're almost done with the Sorting, and then it'll be off to their shenanigans! I hope you're looking forward to what's coming as much as I am. As always, I love going through your comments, so please leave some (seriously I read all of them). And with that, enjoy!!
> 
> ALSO PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THE NEW TUMBLR FOR THIS UNIVERSE @thosemarauderboys. You can find fancasts of the characters (including OCs) to see what I imagine them looking like, plus fun facts about them, and I’m trying to update with like, images and stuff as well.

Sirius watched James jump down from the train, landing a little less gracefully than he probably would have liked, and suddenly he felt paralyzed with fear. Even though it was just a small hop down – probably less than a meter – it felt monumental, and Sirius wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it. All he had to do was step down and his future began, one without his parents or his stupid, annoying little brother or all the Black expectations that he could never live up to being thrust down his throat. One step and it was all gone, one step and he was free. And suddenly, that terrified him. Who was he if he wasn’t defying his parents and rebelling against all their Pureblood mania?

“Are you going to go?” Remus whispered behind him, and Sirius started, whipping his head around to peer carefully at the other boy.

“Yeah, sorry,” he replied, and then he took a deep breath and leapt down onto the platform, stepping forward to stand next to James, who looked both nervous and excited. The two black-haired boys grinned and turned to Remus at the same time, looking more like twins than new friends.

Remus picked his way carefully down from the train, no reckless leaping like the other two boys had done, and as he alighted on the platform, his fingers nervously reached for his tie, loosening and tightening it repeatedly.

“Firs’ years!” sounded a rough voice, and all three boys looked up to see the outline of a very large man silhouetted against the night. “Firs’ years over here!”

Sirius looped his arm through Remus’ and then hooked the other through James’, making a chain out of the three of them.

“C’mon,” he said, skipping off toward the guide and practically dragging his friends along behind him.

As they reached the drew closer to the man, they found that several first years had beaten them there, already forming something of a crowd around his legs, but Sirius elbowed his way through them, pushing people aside until they were right at the very front, necks craned so their heads were almost looking straight up into the glittering beetle black eyes set in the midst of shaggy black hair and a matching beard.

“Righ’ then,” the man began after he had contented himself that all the first years were standing in front of him. “Name’s Rubeus Hagrid, I’m groundskeeper here at Hogwarts, an’ I’ll be takin’ yeh over to the castle, if yeh’ll jus’ follow me.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heels and began walking down a hidden path behind him, and Sirius immediately followed him, his anxiety giving way to curiosity and excitement. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he jogged to keep up with Hagrid’s large paces, James right next to him and Remus not far behind. A few minutes later, they reached the edge of a large lake, its water a deep, dark black that acted like a mirror. On the edge of the lake were a bunch of small wooden rowboats, waiting to carry them across, but Sirius couldn’t take his eyes of the water, gently lapping back and forth, running over the toes of his boots with a soft touch.

“Alrigh’, in yeh get!” Hagrid called out, but his words only registered dimly in Sirius mind.

Sirius stepped forward into the water, the cold chill creeping up his legs as the water soaked through his pants, lifting the edges of his robes until the billowed out around him. He kept moving forward until he was more than knee deep, his hands outstretched toward the water, letting it jump up and meet his skin with each little wave. He loved the water, always had, not that he had much opportunity to be in it. When he was little, his parents had taken him and Regulus to the coast in the summer, but lately his mother had complained about the number of Mudbloods and Muggles that were befouling the beaches, and they had stopped going. But when they had gone, Sirius would run headlong into the water, diving under as soon as it was deep enough and he would let himself get lost in the underwater world, sometimes pretending he could see merpeople and other magical creatures down there.

“Oi! Wha’ d’yeh think yer doin’?” the groundskeeper bellowed, his voice breaking Sirius from his reverie.

“You said to get in,” Sirius quipped without thinking, turning back to face the others with the black water rippling around his waist. He saw that everyone else was seated in the little wooden boats, and for a minute he felt rather stupid, until he saw James roaring with laughter and he grinned, feeling confident for a moment. Perhaps he was still the same person in this new setting after all, still a wise ass troublemaker who lived to make others laugh.

“In ter the boats!” Hagrid roared in frustration, his face turning a magnificent shade of magenta, a color Sirius had always relished seeing on his parents.

“Well, you should have specified,” he answered with a grin, moving slowly toward the boat that James and Remus were sitting in. He placed his hands on the wooden edge and hauled himself up and into the boat, sitting next to a blonde girl he paid little attention to.

“Why on earth would you do something like that?” the girl asked, sounding far too disapproving for Sirius’ liking.

“Why not?” he answered, shrugging, and she gaped at him like a fish.

“Our Sirius here is a bit of a rebel,” James added, grinning at Sirius like he was already thinking of all the pranks they were going to pull this year.

As Remus turned his attention to the girl, Sirius sat back and looked out over the water, something like betrayal churning in the pit of his belly. He crossed his arms and glowered at the forest, annoyed that Remus could so easily ruin his good mood, though really he was annoyed with himself for being so easily swayed. James kicked Sirius hard in the shin, and Sirius looked up, ready to glare at James with an intensity that would burn him (he had practiced such a glare many times on his parents and his brother), but his eyes widened as he took in the sight in front of him. Out of nowhere, the castle had risen up, turrets climbing high into the sky like a forest of their own, little pinpricks of light from the windows combining to create a spectacular glow. Sirius was in awe of the sight, completely stunned into silence, and in the quiet he felt the nerves beginning to take hold again.

Their little wooden boat started to slow as the bottom dragged through the soft silt at the edge of the lake, until finally it came to a stop. James was out of the boat first, leaping into the water and running up the hill as fast as his legs could carry him, and Sirius followed a little more slowly. The closer they drew to the castle, the closer they were to the Sorting Ceremony, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel as though it would be one of the most defining moments of his life. He was terrified that he would be put in Slytherin, forced to become like his parents, but he was also terrified that he wouldn’t be sorted there, that he would have to forge his own path, leave behind what he knew.

“Now that’s a castle,” Sirius whistled as he caught up to James, who was standing on the lawn, gazing up at the castle slack-jawed.

“C’mon,” James grinned, bumping his shoulder against Sirius’, and Sirius pushed all his apprehensions and anxieties down, determined to enjoy the moment.

Sirius took off a second before James, both boys racing ahead of the groundskeeper and the other first years, completely disregarding the shouts of protests that echoed after them. As they stepped into the light spilling forth from the open doors, Sirius noticed for the first time a tall, robed figure standing stock still in the entryway. He slowed his steps, wary of this person who gave off a formidable air. Upon closer inspection, she was not very old, maybe in her late thirties, but her face showed signs of someone who had faced adversity early on and ploughed through it, and Sirius immediately knew that she was not one to take advantage of.

“Enthusiastic, aren’t we?” she said tartly, a heavy Scottish accent colouring her words.

“It’s an exciting day,” James answered with a grin, clearly feeling more daring than Sirius was.

She remained silent and staring out at the lawn until all the first years had made their way up the lawn and were gathered in front of her.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” she said at last, before addressing the assembled first years. “I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, and professor of Transfiguration. You will all follow me into the Great Hall momentarily, where you will be sorted into your new houses. The sorting is very important, as you will eat, sleep, and take classes with your house, so I suggest you do not take the matter lightly. Now, please form a line, two abreast.”

The eleven-year-olds scrambled to arrange themselves in line, behind James and Sirius, who naturally were the first two.

“Follow me.”

Professor McGonagall turned sharply and strode through the open double doors, up a grand marble staircase, and through another set of ornate double doors that swung open as she approached them. Sirius marched along behind her, partly taking in the scene around him, and partly trying to focus and make sure he didn’t trip and take out the whole line of first years, which apart from being embarrassing, surely would not have earned him much good will from McGonagall. As they passed through the Great Hall, two long tables crowded with students in matching black robes on either side of them, Sirius kept his eyes trained ahead of him, not wanting to look over at the Slytherin table, where he knew he would see his cousin Narcissa’s icy eyes trained on him. When they reached the front of the Hall, the first years fanned out, and Sirius found himself moving away from James, much to his displeasure. It would have been nice to stand by his friend until his name was called, even though he knew he wouldn’t have long to wait. A wrinkly, patched hat sat on a stool in front of them, and when all the students had grown quiet at last, it opened at the seam of its brim, speaking as easily as though it were alive.

_Oh I’m not just a hat_

_I’m much more than that_

_I’m the one who’ll decide your future_

_I’ll look in your brain_

_See what it contains_

_Decide what makes you peculiar_

_Courage for the Gryffindor_

_Who cowardice abhors_

_And seeks to prove their daring_

_These brave young chaps_

_Will have your back_

_And protect you without caring_

_Intelligence for Ravenclaw_

_Who leave all else in awe_

_Of all their knowledge and creativity_

_A touch unconventional_

_And never dull_

_And always smarter than thee_

_Loyalty for the Hufflepuff_

_Those friendly folk are tough_

_And put their loved ones first_

_Though a welcoming bunch_

_Have a hunch_

_A threat will get you cursed_

_Ambition for the Slytherin_

_They do like a good win_

_In games, and sports, and school, its true_

_If you want to get ahead_

_In life don’t be misled_

_Follow my advice and seek to join this crew_

_Now try me on_

_I don’t bite much_

_And see where you belong_

When it finished the last note of its little song, the hat grew still once more and the hall erupted in applause, and Sirius saw James lean forward out of the line a little bit to flash him a grin.

“When I call your name, you will step forward, and the hat will sort you into your house,” Professor McGonagall declared in a booming voice. “When you have been sorted, you will join your house at its table.”

Sirius fidgeted so much, he didn’t even register the sorting of the first few students, focused as he was on not having a heart attack from nerves. He hardly heard his own name when it was called, but it just snuck past the walls of his mind.

“Black, Sirius,” Professor McGonagall announced, and Sirius stepped forward, feeling decidedly sick. He shoved the hat onto his head and waited to hear its verdict, fighting the urge to be sick.

The hat began its examination of Sirius’ mind, and a memory came forward unbidden. He was seven, and had gone shopping with his mother in Diagon Alley. As he ran ahead to look at Megnorium’s Magnificent Music, he saw a girl, around his age or a little younger, perhaps, trip on a loose cobblestone, falling and tearing a hole in her stocking. She started crying, and Sirius rushed over, offering her his hand. _Sirius, don’t touch that filth_ , his mother had hissed at him, but he had looked fleetingly at her before taking the girl’s hand and pulling her to her feet, dusting some stray dirt off her hands and dress. _There, don’t cry_ , he had told her, smiling warmly before his mother had grabbed him by the ear and pulled him away. He had been thoroughly beaten for that, and no food for a day. For helping the child of blood-traitors. The memory seemed to help the hat make its decision, for a moment later it opened its makeshift mouth and yelled loudly.

“Gryffindor!”

Sirius felt his body stiffen, even as he longed to relax. That was it, he was not a Slytherin, he would not be in the same house as his cousins, or his ancestors, or likely his brother. Though part of him felt like rejoicing at the news, another part of him felt like lead as he pulled the hat off his head and stood from the stool, shuffling towards the Gryffindor table. He saw James in the crowd of first years still waiting to be sorted, a giant grin on his face, and Sirius tried to return it, but he couldn’t. He was going to be beaten for this for sure, possibly disowned. Tomorrow, all the other students would be getting excited letters from their parents, while he would be lucky not to get a howler. He plunked his body down into a gap next to an older boy, who clapped him hard on the back, but Sirius wasn’t listening when the older boy introduced himself. He turned his attention back to the Sorting, surprised that he appeared to have missed a few more people during his introspection.

Caomhanach, Niamh and Clarke, Eleanor were called forward by Professor McGonagall and sent to Ravenclaw, followed by Crabbe, Salacia, who was made a Slytherin, and Cross, Elodie, who joined the other two girls in Ravenclaw. When Durion, Anselmo sat down at the Slytherin table, Sirius saw him and Salacia Crabbe whispering fiendishly, shooting conspiratorial looks at him. His stomach filled with lead once more as he tried not to squirm under their gaze, and he could only imagine what they were thinking. From the stunned silence that had filled the Hall after he had been made a Gryffindor, everyone knew that it was a surprise, particularly given his surname. And other powerful pureblood families, like the Crabbes, were sure to know all about the Blacks.

“Filibuster, Saundra!” McGonagall called out, and Sirius turned his eyes back toward the front of the hall as a short, red haired girl stepped forward, looking confident. She sat under the scrutiny of the hat for only about ten seconds before it made it’s decision, shouting “Ravenclaw!” at the top of its lungs.

Fionn, Laoghaire was chosen next, and Sirius saw a very pretty girl walk forward, tossing her deep auburn hair over her shoulder. She smiled shyly as she sat on the stool, Sirius able to see her freckles standing out on her pale skin all the way from his seat. Her eyes met his and she blushed slightly, her fingers tightening as she waited for the hat to make its choice.

“Hufflepuff!” it cried out at last, and she scurried off to the applauding yellow-and-black table, and he watched her go. The two girls he had just watched get sorted could have been sisters – both with reddish hair and plump lips, albeit different eyes and noses. He wondered, bemusedly, whether or not they could be cousins, or perhaps twins separated at birth…

“Kyriakos, Lilavati!” Professor McGonagall called, and the prettiest girl Sirius had ever seen stepped forward to be sorted. She had tan skin and hair that was such a deep, rich chocolate brown it was almost black, and purple eyes that crackled like electricity as she looked around the room. The way she held herself was defiant, as though she were daring anyone to mess with her, and Sirius had no doubt she could protect herself, with or without magic.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat shouted, and Sirius felt his heart sink a little bit. He had been hoping that she would be sorted into the Gryffindor with him.

Sirius looked down at the glittering golden plate in front of him, feeling a bit dejected, and more than a little bit hungry, he wished food would appear in front of him, or at least someone to talk to.

“Lupin, Remus,” Professor McGonagall announced, and Sirius whipped his head toward the front of the hall so fast he nearly cracked his neck. He tried to remind himself that Remus had said he would probably be in Ravenclaw, tried not to get his hopes up too much, but he wasn’t doing a very good job. Remus looked nearly as sick as Sirius had felt, and he wondered idly whether or not he had looked as bad as his friend. The hat was taking its time, and from the look on Remus’ face, it appeared as though he were having some kind of internal conflict.

“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted at last, and Remus looked almost surprised as he stood and lifted the hat off his head, placing it back on the stool.

Sirius erupted with applause, practically standing on the bench as he clapped and whooped and whistled until Remus joined him, a smile plastered on his face. Several older Gryffindors clapped him on the back, and Sirius enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug, rocking back and forth as he smooshed his cheeks against Remus’, smiling ear to ear. _He was not alone_.

“Pleased?” Sirius asked Remus as they sat down, quieting enough for the Sorting to continue.

“Couldn’t be happier,” Remus answered gleefully. “You?”

“Like I just downed a cauldron full of Elixir to Induce Euphoria,” Sirius grinned.

“You must be quite giddy then,” Remus teased, nudging Sirius with his shoulder.

“I feel like I could just float off into the sky,” Sirius answered. “You’re not disappointed though, are you? That you didn’t get Ravenclaw?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Remus replied, looking back toward the Sorting, “Gryffindor is pretty great. Hey look, it’s that kid from the train.”

Sirius turned to see who he was talking about, and sure enough, little Peter was practically shaking as he sat down on the stool and placed the hat on his head.

“Wonder where he’ll end up,” Remus remarked casually, though he didn’t really sound like he wondered at all. Sirius didn’t have a strong feeling about it either, he didn’t really care where the titchy little boy ended up.

“I doubt he’ll be in Gryffindor though,” Sirius said, thinking about the incident on the train.

“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted, and Sirius shook his head with a little laugh, clapping for Peter, albeit much less enthusiastically than he had for Remus.

“Would it be alright if I sat here?” Peter said to Remus and Sirius, indicating one of the empty seats next to them, and Sirius shook his head, not saying a word as his eyes fixated on James.

He knew his friend would be called forward soon, and James looked as though he were turning a sickly green. He had nothing to worry about, though, if any of them were meant to be in Gryffindor, it was James. Still, Sirius knew the pressure of having a family name to live up to, even if he wasn’t proud of his.

“Potter, James!” Professor McGonagall boomed, and James shuffled forward, seeming as though his feet were stuck to the floor with a permanent sticking charm.

The hat had hardly spent any time on his head at all before it shouted “Gryffindor!” and James looked so relieved he might pass out. Sirius leapt onto the bench and started whooping and cheering even more enthusiastically than he had for Remus, and James ran in his direction, grinning from ear to ear. The Gryffindor table hadn’t quite died down before Rowle, Dagdan, and Selwyn, Heino joined the Slytherins, and Sirius recognized the latter as the bully from the train.

“Congrats mate,” Sirius nearly yelled as James took his seat, and for the first time Sirius noticed that he was shaking a bit, either from nerves or excitement.

“My father is going to be so pleased,” James whispered as Severus Snape was called forward to be Sorted. Like James, the hat had barely touched the boy’s dark hair before it shouted its verdict – Slytherin.

“Right, well, thank goodness Snivellus isn’t in our house,” Sirius sneered, kicking James cheerfully under the table. “I don’t think I could stomach his grease all over the dormitory.”

“Yeah,” James answered, without laughing or even turning to look at Sirius, and he felt his stomach dip unpleasantly.

Had he said something wrong? He had only been playing off the same joke James made on the train, but had he perhaps gone to far? Sirius followed James’ gaze to the little redhaired girl who had been sitting with Snivellus on the train, who was frowning as she watched Snape walk toward the Slytherin table.

“Oi, mate,” Sirius said, kicking James again, “you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” James smiled, shaking his head a little. “Just spaced out I guess. It’s been too long since we had lunch, about bloody time for dinner.”

“Too right,” Sirius agreed, and Remus nodded as well, all of them looking down at the still empty golden plates in front of them.

For the moment, without thinking about what would happen next, Sirius was more than content, he was truly happy for perhaps the first time in his life. What tomorrow would bring was, well, tomorrow’s problem, and it would do him no good to worry about it until it came. So Sirius resolved not to think about the Howler he was sure would be waiting for him at breakfast tomorrow, and instead focus on his first night at Hogwarts surrounded by new friends.


	20. The Sorting, Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tbh, I'm glad this chapter is done. I'm not a huge fan of writing Peter, and I wanted to get through the part where I felt I needed to show everyone's perspective. From now on, each event will only be told from one of the marauder's perspectives, although it'll still alternate as it serves the story. There may not be quite so many Peter chapters from now on. I start my finals the week after Thanksgiving, so I probably will not get a chance to write for a few weeks, but I hope that once finals are over, updates will come more frequently. That is all - enjoy!
> 
> ALSO PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THE NEW TUMBLR FOR THIS UNIVERSE - "thosemarauderboys" . You can find fancasts of the characters (including OCs) to see what I imagine them looking like, plus fun facts about them, and I'm trying to update with like, images and stuff as well.

The journey from the train to the castle was too anxiety-inducing for Peter to remember much of it, instead passing in a blur of intense nausea. He was fairly sure that his pallor was a very sickly green, rather than his customary pale pink, and the time in those little rickety boats did not help matters. As Professor McGonagall marched them through the large dining hall, Peter fought the urge to be sick. It would certainly not be the best first impression. He could imagine the resounding laughter as the entire student body saw him, sick covering his robes. Feeling a little bit flushed, Peter shook the image from his mind, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. He was so focused, he didn’t notice that the rest of the students had stopped walking, having reached the front of the hall, and he promptly collided with the girl in front of him, who turned around and shot him a nasty look.

There was a worn old hat sitting on top of a fairly unsteady looking stool, and as Peter watched, the hat opened wide at the brim and began singing. The phenomenon shocked Peter so much that he nearly fell over, feeling extremely lightheaded. He couldn’t make out the words that the hat was saying, his brain feeling fuzzy and full. Finally, a crisper, clearer voice cut through the muddle in his mind.

“When I call your name, you will step forward, and the hat will sort you into your house,” Professor McGonagall announced. “When you have been sorted, you will join your house at its table.”

Peter began wringing his hands together and twisting them in his robes, a telltale sign of his mounting nerves.

“Black, Sirius!” was called, and the curly-haired boy who had defended him on the train stepped forward. The hat seemed to take a great deal of time deliberating, but at last it shouted “Gryffindor!” and Sirius made his way to the table to the far right, decorated in red and gold. He seemed to deflate a bit, but he did not quite seem happy, which baffled Peter. From his discussions on the train, it seemed as though Gryffindor was _the_ house to be in.

Angus Brown and Eagan Burke both went to Hufflepuff. What had Emrys said on the train about Hufflepuff? That was where people who were loyal went. Peter thought that could be right for him. Loyalty was a good thing, and though he had never really had an occasion to prove his loyalty, he thought it could be something he valued.

“Fawley, Zephyr!” was called forward, and a boy who looked like he belonged in the shadows stepped forward. He frowned as the hat was placed on his head, but otherwise sat completely still.

“Slytherin!” the hat called out after a few moments, and the boy stood silently, handing the hat back to Professor McGonagall. He glided over to the green and silver table to the left, barely making a sound, and he sat next to the other first years, his face still expressionless.

Howard Hall was sent to Hufflepuff as well, and Peter rapidly grew both more impatient for his turn and more nervous. He wanted it to be over, but he was also terrified of the result.

“Lupin, Remus!” Professor McGonagall called, and Peter recognized the friendly boy from the train compartment. He looked about as nervous as Peter felt, his face thoroughly green. For several moments, the hall sat quietly, waiting for the hat to announce its decision, but nothing came. Peter felt an edge of panic on Remus’ behalf, but even more that this would happen to him too. What if the had decided he had to leave Hogwarts? What if it said he wasn’t a wizard after all, that there had been some mistake?

“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted at last, and Peter released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. He watched Remus walk over to the Gryffindor table, but he didn’t miss the almost longing glance he cast in the direction of the Hufflepuff table ask he walked past. Perhaps Peter wasn’t the only one who was hoping to join the ranks of the Hufflepuffs. Gavin O’Neill was sent to join Hufflepuff and Peter felt a twinge of jealousy.

“Pettigrew, Peter!” Professor McGonagall said, and Peter immediately felt as though he had shrunk to half his size. She seemed to tower over him with the impossibly large hat, and it felt as though he had to scramble up onto the stool to be sorted. As Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head, it slipped down about his ears, covering his eyes.

 _Very interesting_ , a voice hissed in Peter’s ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. _Not Ravenclaw, I think, no, we can eliminate that one right away._

 _I’d really like Hufflepuff,_ Peter thought to himself, and he heard the hat chuckle slightly.

 _No, I think not that either. Hmmm,_ the hat considered carefully. _There is not so much ambition, but cunning abound. Slytherin would be a good fit… But perhaps in Gryffindor… if I sent you there, perhaps what I have seen…_

The hat seemed to be talking to itself for the most part then, its words completely unintelligible to Peter.

 _Please, I don’t want to be in Slytherin_ , Peter thought, his hands gripping the edge of the stool so tightly that his knuckles were starting to ache.

_No, perhaps this will change things… Alright then… Be brave, Peter…_

“Gryffindor!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief as he scooted off the stool and made his way toward the red and gold dressed table. Gryffindors up and down its length offered him high fives as slaps on the back as he passed them, but Peter kept going, searching for Remus and Sirius, the only two faces he recognized.

“Would it be alright if I sat here?” Peter asked the two boys, gesturing to the empty place beside Remus. Sirius gave a noncommittal shake of the head, and Remus waved his had in assent, flashing a welcoming smile, but both boys had their eyes fixed on the sorting.

“Potter, James!” had been called only a few moments before, and Peter turned to watch what was happening. It seemed like mere moments compared to the time he had spent sitting on the stool before the hat called out in a loud voice, “Gryffindor!”, confirming all their suspicions. The table cheered and Sirius went completely berserk and Peter clapped along with the others. James practically skipped over to them, collapsing into the seat next to Sirius with a slight huff and looking for all the world like he was about to cry with joy.

“Sexton, Althea!” became yet another Hufflepuff, and Peter watched her join the table next to him with envy. It wasn’t that he was displeased with being sorted into Gryffindor, it was just that he wasn’t entirely sure that he agreed with the hat’s assessment of him.

“Stebbins, Daniel!” was called forth, and a small, bookish looking boy with curly hair stepped forward to answer.

“Ravenclaw!” the hat declared almost at once, and the boy hopped off, looking rather pleased.

Peter looked around at the empty plates that sat on crimson table runners, and he longed for them to be filled with food. His mother had told him how wonderful the dinners were at Hogwarts, and he looked forward to it so much. She had not been the best cook herself, but she had tried awful hard. Peter used to sit with her while she cooked sometimes, taste testing the dishes she created and suggesting things that she might add. He had always loved cooking.

“Wells, Adrian!” Professor McGonagall beckoned. Peter watched as yet another of his peers was sorted into the house he had wanted, but he didn’t let himself feel sorry. He had gotten a wonderful house and he knew people there and he felt certain that they could be friends, so long as they tried hard enough. And Peter was quite determined to make considerable effort. Things would be different here, things would not be like his old schools. He would not be bullied here.


	21. The First Day (Sirius)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As usual, my apologies for the delay in updating this. Life has a funny way of, well, getting in the way. From this point on, events will only be written from one point of view each, though I'll still switch up the characters each chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter!  
> And don't forget to check out thosemarauderboys.tumblr.com for updates and information on the Better Together 'verse!

Sirius woke in the morning gazing at the heavy red drapes that hung from his four poster, enclosing him. He felt a little claustrophobic with them closed around him, too used to the silver velvet ones that adorned his bed at home. Still, he pushed the feeling away, determined not to let his home life affect his time at Hogwarts. Sirius heard alarm clocks echo through the dormitory, and he stretched his arms above his head, pointing his toes and trying to stretch every inch of his body. After a few pleasant little popping sensations in his joints, Sirius swung his feet over the side of the bed, the wood floor nice and cool on his bare feet. He looked over at the bed next to him and saw that James, who had not bothered to close the curtains around his own bed, had grumpily covered his head with his pillow, groaning unhappily.

“Oi, pudding brain!” Sirius hollered at the snoozing James, picking up his own pillow and tossing it sharply at the sleeping boy’s head.

“Wha?” James blinked sleepily, pushing himself up a little to look around, searching for who hit him, only to find Sirius grinning maniacally at him. “Bloody hell mate,” he groaned, planting his face back into the pile of pillows on his bed now.

“Come on, you’ll miss breakfast,” Sirius said, bouncing on his feet as he stripped his pajamas off.

The other boys were getting ready in relative silence, and the air in the dormitory felt rather tired, but definitely excited. They were all groggy, and Sirius could tell that none of the rest of them were morning people. He strode over to his trunk, wearing no clothes at all, and started pulling his uniform out item by item. To his surprise, he found that his robes all had a Gryffindor patch on the left breast, and his grey sweaters were all lined with red and gold trim. On the bars encircling the wood burning stove in the middle of the room hung twelve Gryffindor ties, two for each of them. Sirius fingered them as the other five boys babbled happily, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Running through his fingers was actual evidence that he was in Gryffindor now, concrete proof that he was different from the rest of his family, and that thrilled him, and yet he knew that it was not so easy, that his family would not take it lying down, and he dreaded their response.

“You ready?” Remus asked, though it was a bit of a silly question, since Sirius was still standing stark naked by the stove, gazing at the silk tie in his hands.

“Er, sorry, just a sec,” Sirius answered, snapping out of his daze and returning to the task of getting ready for the day.

He threw his clothes on haphazardly, not really caring how he looked, and he rushed out with James and Remus, Peter trailing along hurriedly, still trying to pull his robe on. The four of them sat down at the Gryffindor table, and James immediately began piling sausage and eggs onto his plate. Sirius poured pumpkin juice for all of them and then helped himself to food, waiting to see how the day would start.

Professor McGonagall stood and walked along the Gryffindor table, distributing sheets of paper to all the students as she did. She stopped in front of the four of them and peered down her nose at them, looking very stern, but James merely continued to eat his breakfast, while Remus gazed up at her slightly apprehensively.

“Names,” she stated, her eyebrow raised slightly as she waited for them to answer.

“Remus Lupin,” he answered first, and she tapped the parchment in her hand before handing it to him.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Peter followed, and he too was handed a slip of parchment.

“Dame Po’er,” James replied thickly through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, and Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment as though she were trying to muster the energy to deal with this immature child in front of her, but then she handed him his parchment too.

“And you?” she said, turning to Sirius, who had thus far been reluctant to speak up.

“Sirius Black,” he answered, and though she hid her surprise well, Sirius could see its traces on her face.

“Well Mr. Black, I am very pleased to have you in my house,” McGonagall concluded, handing him a piece of parchment and then moving off down the table.

Sirius stared down at the parchment in his hand, and saw a timetable scrawled across it, his name neatly in the top corner.

“Schedules, excellent,” Remus said, and James gave him an incredulous look.

Before anyone could say more, however, owls swooped down from the large windows in the front of the room, dropping letters on the plates of their recipients before flying off. All four of the boys received letters in front of them, but Sirius’ was the only one that was emerald green and covered with spiky silver writing. He stared at it for a moment before sliding his slightly trembling fingers beneath the flap of the envelope.

Sirius Phinneas Black,

The family is immensely disappointed in your Sorting. We had so hoped that you would join the Slytherin legacy, but as usual you have failed to live up to our expectations and your duties. Do not be deluded, however, that being in a different House changes your obligations. You will act in a manner befitting your family and your station, make no mistake, and failure to do so will result in severe punishment. And during your time spent at home, you will not distract your brother from his goals of attending Hogwarts and being Sorted into Slytherin next year. At least one of our sons will not be a disappointment to us.

Mother & Father

Sirius returned the letter to its envelope, trying desperately to suppress the rage and hurt that was coursing through him.

“Ah, excellent!” James gushed as he poured over his letter. “My mother says she and dad are so pleased, they’re going to send a package along with scarves and other Gryffindor things along in a few days.”

“My parents are quite excited too,” Remus joined in, a wide smile gracing his face. “Mum doesn’t really know what it means of course, but Dad is pleased.”

“I think my mum is rather proud,” Peter piped up. “Gryffindor always seems so heroic.”

“Sirius?” Remus asked, looking over at him.

Sirius had turned quite pale, and a bit green. He felt as though he were going to be sick, suddenly the bangers and mash seemed like a bad idea.

“Sirius?” James echoed, and Sirius’ head snapped up to look at them.

“Er, my parents aren’t exactly thrilled, but who cares what they think,” he answered, trying very hard to force his mouth into a smile.

“Mate…” James began, but Sirius shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m fine.” He balled the letter and the hideous green envelope it came it and made a tight fist around them, crushing them tighter and tighter.

“Well, let’s see what classes we have today then,” Remus interjected, sensing the need to change the topic.

“Transfiguration first, that’s good,” James added, glancing at his schedule. “Double History of Magic though, surely that won’t be fun.”

“Herbology before lunch ought to be good though,” Peter joined in.

Sirius smiled at them all, feeling his spirits lift as he watched them. He didn’t need his family’s approval, not when he had such great friends.

“Come on, I want to get a good seat,” Remus implored, getting up and grabbing his bag. James and Sirius rolled their eyes at him, but Peter bounced up, seemingly just as eager as Remus, or perhaps just eager not to get left behind.

They made their way to the classroom listed, after taking a few unintended detours down the wrong corridors. By the time they made it, many of the seats were taken already, and the only group of four together was in the second row, so they took it. The students all chattered quietly until Professor McGonagall swept in, looking very austere.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention up front, please,” she began in a commanding voice, and the whole room fell silent. “This is Transfiguration class, where you will learn the basic principles of the art. If you think that it will be easy or simple, you are sorely mistaken. My class requires focus, attention, diligence, and seriousness.”

“At your service!” Sirius stood, saluting her, determined not to let a single pun involving his name go to waste. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes again, breathing deeply for a moment, as though she was only then beginning to understand the hassle she was going to face for the next seven years.

“Mr. Black, I will not tolerate this kind of idiocy in my class,” she said sternly, towering over him and looking very fierce.

“Is there another kind of idiocy you would prefer?” he replied cheekily, and several people in the class tittered.

“Mr. Black, you will see me after class. And sit down.” Sirius, who had still been standing at attention, dropped back into his seat. “You are all expected to behave appropriately in class, and to offer myself and each other due respect. You will complete your assignments on time and to the best of your ability. Have I made myself clear?”

Choruses of “Yes, Professor” echoed through the classroom as students took note that Professor McGonagall was not a woman to be messed with.

Sirius’ punishment turned out to be 500 words on appropriate classroom behavior, which was not much in the grand scheme of things, and he dashed it off during the lunch break, no problem. The rest of the day’s classes were uneventful – the History of Magic teacher had been frightfully boring, and Sirius hadn’t been able to pay attention for more than two minutes before he began doodling on his notes. Herbology had been fun though, Sirius had enjoyed digging around in the dirt with James, Remus, and Peter, and had even managed to get in a little bit of a dirt fight with James without getting into too much trouble. All in all, by the end of the first day, things were beginning to look up, and Sirius wasn’t quite as distressed by the letter he had received from his parents.


	22. Sirius' Remark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright guys, here we go, another update, finally. Thank you all so much for bearing with me the last few months and waiting for this next update. I can't promise when the next update is going to be, but I'm going to try my very best not to let the updates lapse for more than a month. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, as I enjoyed writing it.

“Did you hear those third years talking about their house elves?” James said as the four boys sat down for breakfast in the Great Hall.

“Do people really treat their house elves like that?” Peter asked timidly, and he gave a little shudder. “Daily floggings and such?”

“My family doesn’t,” James replied, puffing his chest out with pride. “Septimia took care of me when I was a baby – she’s my friend. I’ve never seen Father beat her, and I wouldn’t let him if I did.”

His eyes blazed defiantly as he looked around at his friends, but none of them questioned him. Sirius’ cheeks flushed slightly but none of the other boys noticed.

“I think the whole practice is disgusting,” Remus said quietly, pushing his beans around on his plate.

“Why?” Sirius asked, speaking at last.

“It’s slavery,” Remus answered, looking at Sirius like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But they’re not even human,” Sirius argued, and James and Remus both furrowed their brows.

“So?” Remus challenged.

“So they’re inferior!” Sirius asserted. “House elves, giants, merpeople, werewolves, goblins – I’m surprised we don’t make more of them work.”

“They still have rights!” Remus replied hotly, his cheeks flaming.

“The right to exist, maybe,” Sirius scoffed. “Though I wish Kreacher wouldn’t.”

Remus stared at him with his mouth agape and his eyes bright with fury. James was looking at Sirius like he’d never seen him before, and Peter scooted slightly father away from him at the bench, as though he were afraid his views might be contagious. Remus shoved away from the table, grabbing his bag and swinging it violently over his shoulder. He stalked off without another word, though even from behind you could see that the tips of his ears were red and his body was practically vibrating with rage. James flashed Sirius a dirty look as he shoved a stray book back into his bag and stood up, grabbing a piece of toast that was topped with beans.

“That’s not okay, mate,” he said to Sirius, and then turned and followed Remus out.

Peter resumed eating his breakfast in silence, but Sirius felt as though the food he had been eating had turned to ash, and he pushed his plate away, staring at his hands in his lap. He felt like he had monumentally messed up, but he didn’t understand. He had never heard anything else, not from anyone in his family, not even Andromeda. He felt confused and angry with himself and angry with his friends.

“Come on,” Peter said quietly, not making eye contact, “we don’t want to be late for McGonagall’s class.”

Sirius grabbed his bag and stood with Peter, and the two of them made their way to transfiguration in silence.

Neither James nor Remus acknowledged Sirius for the rest of the day, and Peter only spoke to him when absolutely necessary. But the time dinner was over, Sirius felt alone and very unhappy. Back in the Gryffindor common room, he sat at a table in the back corner writing a letter to Andromeda. A second year girl with tanned kin and dark hair sat across from him and took her books and a roll of parchment out of her bag. Sirius watched her curiously, surprised that she hadn’t said anything to him. After a few minutes, she noticed him staring at her, and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, all sass.

“You didn’t ask if it was alright to sit her,” he answered, and she snorted out a laugh at his response.

“I’m a second year,” she explained, “and you’re only a first.”

“What if I was waiting for my friends to come over?”

“Your friends are over there,” she answered, shrugging and jerking her head in the direction of James, Remus and Peter. “Don’t know what happened but it seems like they don’t want to sit with you today.”

“Why don’t you have your own friends to sit with?” he said, eyes narrowing.

‘Tristan is in Hufflepuff and Emmeline is at quidditch practice,” she replied with another shrug, begin to scratch out her homework on the parchment in front of her. “Benjy is alright, but he can be kind of annoying to do homework with, he’s just so smart.”

“Oh,” he said, not sure what more to say.

“Marlene, by the way,” she offered, without looking up at him.

“I’m Sirius,” he echoed, but he turned to look at his friends, who were laughing at some joke.

“So what happened?” Marlene asked, raising her eyebrows, though she kept her eyes focused on her work.

“Its…” Sirius began, not sure how to tell her the story without alienating yet another person. He found, however, that once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop, needing to get everything out of his system. Marlene listened without interruption, and her face was unreadable the whole way through. When he finally fell quiet, she said nothing at first, the scratching of her quill filling the silence between them, but when she reached the end of the roll, she laid it down and looked up at him, fingers clasped on the table in front of her.

“You’re a Black, right?” she considered, and her voice held no trace of accusation much to his surprise. “That’s one of those old wizarding families?”

“Yes,” he answered sullenly.

“I’m guessing that’s the attitude your family takes?” she questioned, and he nodded in response.

“It’s not like I think we should beat them all left and right,” Sirius argued. “Well, Kreacher deserves his punishments, but only because he’s horrid! But if they’re doing a good job…”

“What you said, about non-human species being inferior,” Marlene frowned at him, “its, well, it’s a very old world kind of view. I’m not surprised that it’s what you’ve been brought up to think, a lot of old, traditional pureblood families still believe that. But things are changing, and a lot of people think that those old families are out of touch. House elves, merpeople… they’re sentient beings, Sirius, they have social structures and relationships, and they’re like us in so many ways. Just because they look different or speak different languages or have different kinds of magic, it doesn’t make them _inferior_ to us. They think and speak and feel, just like us. They’re not animals.”

“How do I fix it?” he asked, with another glance toward his friends.

“Well for starters, you need to actually understand and believe what I’ve just told you,” she answered. “You should read some of the debates about what defines a beast and a being, and see what you think. And then you need to apologize to them, explain that your ignorance led you to make a highly offensive statement, but that you want to become more educated on the subject.”

“Okay,” Sirius agreed, and he began shoving his belongings into his bag. “Thank you, Marlene.”

“Where are you going?” she asked him, and he stood and grabbed his bag.

“The library!” he answered, somewhat excitedly. “I’ve got a lot of reading to do.”

She laughed as he hurried away through the portrait hole. Sirius spent hours scouring the library for everything he could find about the rights of beings and beasts, and once he had a stack that was piled above his head, he found himself a table, and began to pour through the documents. When curfew arrived, he checked out as many of the books as Madam Pince would allow, and he settled himself in a chair by the fireplace, reading until he fell asleep, and then jolting himself awake and reading some more.

Peter was the one who found him in the morning, sometime around 6am, before anyone else had come down for breakfast. He shook Sirius awake, and as Sirius blinked the sleep from his eyes, he saw Peter's gaze scan over the books that had fallen from Sirius' grasp while he dozed.

"Come on, you should change before breakfast," Peter said quietly, and Sirius stood and stretched his arms high above his head.

"No, I should wait until the others have gone down to the Great Hall," Sirius answered in a dejected voice, "they won't want to see me."

"Oh stop, just apologize and it'll be fine. You're not the world's worst monster or anything, you're just ignorant, so just get over yourself," Peter huffed, crossing his arms.

His words took Sirius by surprise, and he was refreshingly startled by the suggestion that maybe he was not a horrible failure of a person, though he knew his family would strongly disagree. With Peter's encouragement, Sirius marched up the stairs and into the dormitory, where Remus was already knotting his tie and James was just stirring from sleep, his hair even messier than it was after he tried to comb it. He cleared his throat carefully, and Remus looked up quickly before returning to the task of properly doing up his tie, but James fixed his dark eyes on Sirius and didn't look away.

"I just... I wanted to say that I'm sorry," Sirius said, his eyes fixed on the floor as he spoke. "I'm an idiot and I don't know anything about what I'm talking about, and it was an incredibly stupid thing to say, I know that now, and I'm trying to learn more to better myself and to improve my outlook on the world."

He thought it sounded quite eloquent in the end, rather better than the bumbling apology that he thought would spill out, and if he hadn't been so worried that it wouldn't be enough, he would probably be very proud of himself.

"Well, I think that's about as fair as you can get," James replied, standing from his bed and clapping Sirius once on the back as he walked toward the bathroom they shared.

Sirius gave him a weak smile, a little bit of relief settling in his gut. He glanced up at Remus, but the other boy was still not looking at him, now focused on pulling his shoes on, though he was trying to put them on the wrong feet, which was Sirius' only indication that he had heard and been at least a little bit affected by his words.

"Other way round, mate," he offered helpfully as he sat down on the edge of his four poster, which was settled in between Remus and James' beds.

He reached into his trunk and pulled out a fresh uniform, tugging off the clothes he had slept in and replacing them with clean ones. He ran one hand carelessly through his curls, glancing in the mirror he had placed on his nightstand to make sure that his hair lay just right. Never let them see you cry, that's what his father always said, always look your best, even if you feel your worst. It was, perhaps, one of the few things Sirius and his father agreed on - displaying your vulnerability made you a target, but if you look like you own the world, well then you probably will.

Throughout the whole day, things between Sirius and James returned to normal, joking and laughing and occasionally mocking Snivellus, but Sirius couldn't help the lead knot in his stomach every time he looked at Remus, who still had not said so much as a word to him. Remus' silence felt moderately less hateful, instead more... moderately chilly, but Sirius still wished his friend would forgive him. It wasn't until the four of them sat on the sofas by the fire later that night and Sirius pulled out one of the books from the library that Remus finally spoke.

"Is that - is that a book about werewolf rights?" he asked, not at all hiding the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, I... I thought I should become more educated before I talk about things like this," Sirius answered, studying Remus' face.

"And what do you think now, having read more about werewolves?" Remus questioned, and Sirius could hear in its tone that it was a loaded question, but there was more too, a kind of thinly veiled contempt that Sirius couldn't quite understand.

"I think it's a complicated issue," Sirius replied, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, int he case of werewolves, they are dangerous, when they're transformed, so you need to have certain precautions in place. But they're also people, normal wizards like you and me, ninety-nine percent of the time, and they deserve to have the same freedoms, the same place in society, and not be thought of as monsters."

"That's quite the change from yesterday," Remus noted, but his voice sounded more optimistic than before.

"I've learned a lot since yesterday," Sirius answered, locking his eyes on Remus and trying to convey through them all the sincerity in his statement.

"Okay," Remus said, with a slight smile, and Sirius felt something click into place.

He knew in that moment that they were okay, that he was forgiven, at least for this transgression, and that things with his friends could go back to normal. But he also knew that he couldn't become complacent. His conversation with Marlene the night before had enlightened him to how much his family had taught him that he needed to unlearn, and it was a process that would take time and effort. But Sirius knew that he wanted that, to cast off every last vestige of his family's bile and become his own person with his own views, and so, instead of joining James in a game of Exploding Snap, he picked up his book again and he continued to read.


	23. Mrs. Norris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! Hopefully you’re pleasantly surprised to be getting another update so soon, and I’m going to try very hard to keep it going.
> 
> *IMPORTANT: You may have noticed that the title of the story has been changed, and that’s because I’ve decided to break this story into pieces, since it’s already pretty long, and I want to avoid having one long, 100+ chapter, 1,000,000 word leviathan that takes 10 years to finish. I will absolutely be continuing the story, I’ve just decided to split it into four different “books”. And even though they’ll all be continuous parts of the larger Better Together ‘verse, they should be pretty much readable as standalone pieces too. So hooray to that! As for this particular “book”, there will 4 more chapters before I conclude and begin the next one. That’s all I’ve got to say right now! Go check out @thosemarauderboys where you can find some awesome edits that @ginnyweasiee has been making for this story!

 

November brought with it a steady drop in temperatures, and frequently one could see students huddling together as they ran across the lawn to the Herbology greenhouses. They hardly ever roamed the stone corridors, or studied in the library, everyone preferring the comfort of their common rooms with their warm fireplaces. Everyone, that is, except James Potter and Sirius Black, who were kicking a loosed pebble idly down the corridor on their way back from unsuccessfully trying to visit Remus in the hospital wing. It was the third time he’d been sent there that term, and all three of his friends – Peter would have joined the others if he hadn’t already been sent to detention for doing abysmally on his homework – were getting concerned about him. What was worse was that Remus never seemed to give them a straight answer about why he was there – a stomach bug, he’d said, waving them off vaguely, or else a migraine, he’d answered with a shake of his head – or why they could never see him there. One time, Peter and Sirius – James had been receiving extra Potions lessons from Professor Slughorn – had even tried making themselves sick to get into the hospital wing, but Remus had not been there, and when they asked about him, Madam Pomfrey had said he was in a more private ward. Something was going on that Remus wasn’t telling them, and it was starting to eat at Sirius.

He and James continued to meander down the corridor, not really wanting to return to the Gryffindor Common Room yet. It was getting close to curfew, but that wasn’t likely to bother the two boys very much, so they took more than one detour on the way. As they took a left down the corridor that led to the transfiguration classroom, Mrs. Norris, the aging caretaker’s ugly cat, had the misfortune of crossing their path.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sirius asked, a gleeful smile on his face as he looked between James and the cat, which had stopped moving, its hair standing on end.

James smiled in return, and without another word, the two of them sprinted towards the cat, who took off with a howl of fury. Both boys pulled their wands out of their pockets and began firing off charms, missing and sending flashes of light flying through the castle. At last, one of James’ charms connected, and Mrs. Norris’ fur turned a bright green. Sirius and James doubled over laughing for a moment before they took off after the cat once more, determined to continue having their fun. Soon enough, they came to a T-junction, and found themselves unsure which way she had run, so decided to split up. Sirius had not gotten far down the corridor before he was forced to try to skid to a halt in order to avoid colliding with Professor McGonagall, who had just stepped out of her office with a stern look on her face. Mrs. Norris was sitting just beyond McGonagall, looking at Sirius with a haughty look, despite her discoloured fur.

“Mr. Black, you will serve detention with me tomorrow evening,” she said without preamble, looking at him over the tops of her glasses. “Seven o’clock, please be prompt. Now, return to the common room before I am forced to give you another detention for being out after curfew.”

Scowling, Sirius turned and walked down the corridor, until he rounded a corner and found James hiding.

“You get a detention?” James asked, his eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah, it’s fine though, totally worth it,” Sirius grinned, not wanting his best friend to feel too guilty. “Come on, I expect Mrs. Norris will tell Filch to be on the look out now, might as well get back to Gryffindor Tower.”

The boys walked back to the common room in silence, an air of defeat hanging between them, and when they got back, they climbed the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, retiring early after their night of failed missions. Remus’ absence hung in the room like an unsolved mystery, the air thick with it, and it kept Sirius tossing in turning in his bed, even after he fell asleep.

By lunchtime the next day, word had spread through the castle about Mrs. Norris’ change in appearance. Professor McGonagall, it seemed, had neglected to return her to her normal color after giving Sirius his detention, and so Mrs. Norris had returned to Filch still bright green in color. Filch had, of course, been furious, and taken her to Professor McGonagall in the morning, demanding that she be returned to her original state. She had obliged, naturally, but not before several students had witnessed the cat’s altered appearance. As Mrs. Norris and Filch were both hated by nearly every single student in the school, it was a highly popular practical joke. Sirius and James puffed their chests out with pride every time they saw someone snickering at Mrs. Norris, and Sirius idly wondered if this would prompt others to have their own fun with her.

Speculation was abound as to who might have been bold enough to do something like that, and while James wanted to claim credit, Sirius said that the mystery would make it last longer, so they said nothing. At dinner, James, Sirius, and Peter were sitting next to Lily Evans, Mirabelle Faulkner, and Rosaline Barrington, who were chatting animatedly about the potential culprit. At least, Mirabelle and Rosaline were, but Lily was sitting there rolling her eyes at them.

“Whoever it is, they’re very immature, I mean really,” Lily said, spearing her roasted carrots with her fork.

“Oh come on, Lily, you have to admit it’s funny,” Rosaline insisted, and Lily’s lips twitched in the direction of a smile. “Ha, I knew it, you think so too.”

“It doesn’t matter how funny it is,” Lily argued, “its against the rules.”

“Yeah, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes here would never do something that’s against the rules,” Mirabelle teased, and the boys fought back the urge to laugh.

“I’m not a goody-two-shoes,” Lily frowned, her eyebrows knitting together, and her fingers toyed with the end of her braid, a sure sign that they had hit a nerve.

Sirius saw Professor McGonagall excuse herself from the staff table, and took that as his cue that it was time to leave. He shoveled one last [large] bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth and pushed back from the table, grabbing his bag and swinging it onto his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked, clearly confused.

“Detention,” Sirius shrugged.

“What’ve you done now?” Mirabelle sighed, turning to look at him with a roll of her eyes. “You haven’t lost any points for us, have you?”

“None of your business,” Sirius grinned mischievously, “and no, I haven’t.”

He saw Marlene McKinnon smirk where she sat a few people down the table, and Sirius knew that she was aware that he was, at least partly, behind Mrs. Norris’ twitchy behavior around the color green. With a departing wave, Sirius set off for the Transfiguration corridor, arriving in McGonagall’s office about thirty seconds after the clock on her wall struck seven.

“Sit, Mr. Black,” she said, and with a wave of her wand, the chair that usually sat opposite her desk transfigured into a small writing desk.

Sirius sat down as he was told, and waited rather impatiently for instructions while Professor McGonagall finished marking a paper that was in front of her. After what felt like an eternity, but was really only about six minutes, Professor McGonagall looked up at him.

“I would like, Mr. Black, for you to write me an essay, no less than two rolls of parchment, to be completed within the next hour, don’t groan at me, Mr. Black, I know you’ve completed essays in far less time, on why you should not transfigure Mrs. Norris, am I understood?”

“Yes, Professor,” Sirius answered unhappily, pulling parchment and a quill from his bag.

“You are to remain silent during this exercise,” Professor McGonagall added, when Sirius opened his mouth to speak. It was, perhaps, the worst punishment anyone could assign, asking Sirius Black not to say a word for an entire hour.

Sirius set to work, scrawling bullshit paragraph after bullshit paragraph about the dangers of transfiguring animals, particularly when you do not know if they might have an adverse reaction, and about the inappropriateness of transfiguring other people’s pets, and anything else that sprang to mind, none of which he really believed at all. At the end of an hour, he had nearly three rolls of parchment of utter nonsense, his reasons becoming more and more dramatic. When Professor McGonagall looked up at him, he smiled and set his quill down on the table, holding the parchment out to her. She accepted it, but did not give it more than a cursory glance before fixing him with an austere stare.

“Can you tell me why it was wrong to turn Mrs. Norris green?” she asked, arching one eyebrow as she looked down at him.

“Because it should have been Gryffindor red,” Sirius smirked, crossing his arms and tipping his chair back on its hind legs.

“Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall sighed heavily, adjusting her glasses, “you will serve a second detention with me tomorrow night for your cheek.”

Sirius was sure he heard her mutter “Though I doubt it will achieve anything” under her breath, and he had to try very hard to suppress a smile.

“And you will bring Mr. Potter with you, if you please,” she added, with a final wave of her hand to dismiss him.

Sirius stood and gathered his things, practically skipping out of the classroom and back to the Gryffindor common room, where he was rather pleased to find Remus sitting at a table in the corner with the others, pouring over notes from the classes he had missed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning that this chapter contains talk of abuse, so if you aren't comfortable reading about that, I would skip this chapter.

Sirius wasn’t particularly looking forward to going home for the Christmas holidays, but all of his friends were, and he hadn’t wanted to stay at Hogwarts alone, so he boarded the Hogwarts Express with the others, his face considerably longer than theirs. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his parents could not deign to come to Kings Cross themselves to meet him, instead sending their third cousin, Archie, who was a squib and practically disowned – kept around only to run errands and the like but not considered a part of the family – to fetch him. He waved a sullen goodbye to his friends and followed Archie to the sleek black town car he owned (much to the dismay of their family, except when the needed him to fetch things). They drove through London in a comfortable silence (what was there to be said between a twelve year old wizard and a twenty eight year old squib really?) and Sirius felt like the ball of dread in his stomach grew larger as they drew closer to Grimmauld Place.

“So Master Sirius has returned, the shameful thing,” Kreacher snarled as he opened the door, and Sirius aimed a kick in his general direction by way of a greeting.

Regulus appeared on the stairs, and the two boys stared at each other for a few minutes. He looked smaller than Sirius remembered, like he had started to curl in on himself, shoulders hunching forward. He was skinny, he always had been, but the features of his face looked sharper, more than a ten year old’s should. Any baby fat he’d still had before Sirius left seemed to be gone. His hair was longer, and the curls were neater than Sirius’, and he imagined his brother styled it with gels and the like, rather than letting it hang wild like he did. It was strange to see his brother with this new style, it was much more similar to his own, and Sirius wondered if Regulus had missed him. Regulus continued down to meet him, and the way he moved was slow and careful, as though he were bruised and sore but didn’t want anyone to know. It was something Sirius had plenty of experience with. Their father had always been an angry man, prone to lash out, and there had been a few instances in their childhood when Sirius had to stand between Orion and Regulus, to protect his younger brother, but the vast majority of Orion’s anger had always been directed at Sirius. It occurred to him that perhaps, in his absence, his father had found a new outlet for his anger, and guilt surged through him, as well as a deep seeded hatred that he could feel pulsing in his veins.

“Reg,” Sirius said at last, breaking the silence, and holding his hand out to his brother. Regulus rushed past it and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist, his head tucked neatly under his own. “I missed you too,” he whispered, and then they pulled apart.

“Is it amazing there?” Regulus asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, it is, you’re going to love it, Reg,” he answered, leading the way downstairs to the kitchen and pouring two goblets of pumpkin juice as he sat down at the table. “The castle is huge, and everything changes all the time, the staircases and such. And classes aren’t even that hard, so you get to have lots of fun, and there’s ghosts and suits of armour that are alive and the forest is filled with all kinds of things.”

“I can’t wait to be at school,” Regulus sighed, a dreamy expression on his face.

“It’ll be here before you know it,” he reassured his brother with a smile.

“Siri?” Regulus began tentatively, using Sirius’ childhood nickname. “Will I be in Gryffindor too?”

His voice was colored with dread as he asked it, and it made Sirius’ stomach twist unpleasantly. He wanted to tell Regulus that Gryffindor was amazing, that he’d be so happy if he were sorted there, but he knew why his brother was anxious about it.

“They were really angry, weren’t they?” Sirius said, but they both knew what he was really asking. _He hit you, didn’t he?_

“Yeah,” he answered, his teeth worrying his lip.

“I’m sorry, Reg” Sirius choked out, clenching his fists against the rough wood of the table as anger built up inside of him, threatening to spill forth in the form of hot tears that were welling up in his eyes. “If I’d been here, I would’ve… you’ll be gone soon, Reg. Just a few months and you’ll be out of here, and things will be so much better, I promise.” _He can’t touch you at Hogwarts._ “You’ll see. I don’t know what house you’ll be sorted in, but it’ll be fine no matter what, I promise.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” Regulus said quietly, and his words hit Sirius like a punch to the gut.

There was the fundamental difference between the two boys, the thing that had been coming between them for a while now, and probably always would. For Sirius, angering and disappointing his parents was a fact of life, and something that no longer caused him grief. He had started to grow calluses to protect himself from them, and he had long ago buried the part of himself that longed for their affection. But Regulus was not like him. Regulus craved their love, and every disappointment was like the end of the world for him.

“They’re wrong, Reg,” Sirius whispered, color rising in his cheeks as he felt the fervent need to make his brother understand. “They’re wrong about everything.”

“Is that what they tell you at Hogwarts?” Regulus asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“No, nobody had to tell me, I just –“

“You just decided that are parents are horrible people and our whole family is completely backwards and you hate them all and… and…” Regulus seemed to stutter at a loss for more words, but Sirius’ temper had begun to flare.

“They are horrible, Reg! They’ve spent our entire lives trying to hate people who are different from us only because they are different!” Sirius hissed, his voice louder than he intended. “It’s crazy! To label people as inferior just because of who their parents were… you should hear some of the things people say, Regulus, you don’t know the half of it.”

“You’ve just hated them since you were born,” Regulus countered, pushing his chair back and standing as his cheeks grew flushed.

“What about what he did to you, Regulus? How do you excuse that?” Sirius challenged, standing up as well and running a hand furiously through his curls.

“You don’t know anything about that,” Regulus whispered, his eyes turning down to the floor.

“Really, Reg?” Sirius looked at his brother incredulous. “I know all about it, I lived through it for eleven years! Do you honestly think this is something new that he’s never done before? Have you just forgotten it all already?”

“He’s only like that with you because you’re impossible,” Regulus said defiantly, and Sirius picked up a goblet from the table and threw it at the wall, not too close to his brother’s head, but close enough that he flinched slightly.

“You don’t know anything,” Sirius snarled, and he stormed out of the room and up the stairs to his room, his heavy footsteps pounding through the house.

Regulus’ words cut Sirius to the bone, but they weren’t unfamiliar ones. Sirius had said them to himself on numerous occasions when he still lived at Grimmauld Place, but his time at Hogwarts had him doubting it. He saw his friends and how happy they were with their parents and he knew they didn’t get the same treatment at home, and he wondered what made him different. Was there something wrong with him that made him worth less than the others? He didn’t feel like he was inherently bad but his parents clearly thought he was.

Sirius flopped down on the bed and put his feet up on the post, his hands absentmindedly toying with the hem of his shirt. He wanted so badly to make Regulus understand what he was coming to see. It felt like there was an ocean between them now, and it hurt Sirius to look out across it, feeling so far from his brother. For so many years, Regulus had been his only friend, other than the occasions when Andromeda had come to visit. Of course they had fought, as brothers do, but Sirius had never thought that when he went to Hogwarts they would begin to grow apart. And yet, lying there in his room with posters of muggle bands he felt miles closer to James and Remus and Peter than he did to his own brother. He sighed and turned his head to look out the window overlooking the alley behind their house. It was dingy and dirty and they never went out there for anything. The rest of the windows had charms on them to look like they overlooked the Lake District, but Sirius kind of liked his view of the alley, he felt like it matched the mood of his life in Grimmauld Place. A raven flew down and landed on the sill of his window, and Sirius watched it tap on the window with its beak. Maybe things with Regulus would get better once he was also at Hogwarts, Sirius thought as he watched the raven.


	25. Bedknobs and Broomsticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what'd'ya know, it's been a few months, but I've finally managed to crank out another chapter. I haven't been much in a writing place of mind lately, just hasn't been the frame of mind that I've been in, but I'm trying to get back in the swing of it, so hopefully I'll be able to finish this story up soon. But for now, I hope you all enjoy this [rather dramatic] chapter!

“James?” Sirius whispered, turning over in his bed to face his friend.

“Mmmm?” James groaned in response, grabbing the pillow from under his head and folding it over his ears.

“James, I can’t sleep,” Sirius said more loudly, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Well could you can it for those of us who can sleep,” Remus interjected, and James groaned in assent.

“Come on, let’s do something,” Sirius said, getting up and sitting on the edge of James’ bed, bouncing slightly.

“Go to sleep,” James hissed, turning over and pulling the pillow over his head.

“Come on,” Sirius crooned, shaking James’ shoulder, “tell me you don’t want to get on your broom right now and feel the wind in your hair. I know you hate watching the Quidditch players and not being on the pitch.”

It was the exact words Sirius needed to say to get James’ attention, and he sat upright in bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling socks onto his feet and grabbing his broom from where it stood propped up against the wall.

Sirius grinned, his eyes glinting in the moonlight as he followed James’ lead.

“You’re going to get caught, and then McGonagall’ll throw you out,” Remus mumbled, his eyes only halfway open.

“She won’t throw us out just for being up after hours,” Sirius argued, continuing to pull on clothes. “But if you’re so worried, don’t come.”

Remus rolled over and covered his head with the pillow, and Sirius frowned, a little disappointed. He quickly shrugged and plastered a grin on his face. Who needed Remus anyway? The two boys rushed out of the dormitory, padding through the halls as quickly and quietly as they could. When they reached the great oak doors of the Entrance Hall, James and Sirius were dismayed to find that they were firmly locked, and impervious to James’ attempts to charm them open.

“Now what?” James whined, frowning. He had fully woken up by this point and was ready for a bit of fun, knowing that sleep was out of the question. Sirius considered their options for a few moments, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. After a minute, his eyes began to glitter and a smile slid across his lips.

“Ever wondered,” he preened, puffing out his chest with pride, “how high the ceiling of the Great Hall goes?”

James’ face lit up with excitement and he practically began to vibrate as he considered his best friend’s words.

"Let's do it," he agreed, and the two boys ran off toward the doors of the Great Hall.

The two heavy doors were closed, but not locked, and with a fair bit of effort, James and Sirius were able to push them open enough to squeeze in. With matching grins on their faces, they exchanged looks of glee and then mounted their brooms, pushing off the ground confidently. In James' opinion, nothing compared to the feeling of the air whipping through his hair, making it messier even than it was on its own. He started doing laps of the Great Hall, flipping over and doing barrel rolls and loop-the-loops, anything the adrenaline pumping through his veins told him. Sirius' cheeks were starting to turn pink as the chill of the night air and the speed that they were flying teased his skin as he followed James. He was more reserved in his flying, not nearly as confident as his best friend. Growing up in the center of London, he hadn't had as many opportunities to fly, especially considering his parents weren't tremendously fond of quidditch. They weren't staunchly opposed to the wizarding sport, but in their minds it didn't exactly constitute gentlemanly behavior, and so it was not something for their sons to participate in.

"Come on, James, let's see how high this thing goes," Sirius taunted, trying to get his best friend to stop performing tricks that he wasn't comfortable duplicating.

Grinning, James immediately grasped the front of his broomstick and yanked it upward, flattening himself to the handle as he did so, so he shot upward with a zoom. Sirius followed suit, trying to get as close to the broomstick as he could. Tricks might be a little bit beyond his comfort zone, but speed most definitely was not. They seemed to keep going up for several minutes without getting any closer to the velvety blackness above them, and Sirius was beginning to wonder whether there even was a ceiling or if the Great Hall in fact just opened onto the sky above. He slowed down and looked beneath him, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw how high up they had flown. A fall from this height would absolutely be fatal. When he looked up again, James was at least fifty feet above him, whooping with glee. Sirius was debating whether or not to call out to his friend and call off their quest - he didn't want to get hurt, but he also had a voice in his head that was challenging him to keep going - when there was a flash of light and a bang that shook the castle like thunder had struck right there in the Great Hall as the spell that had been enchanting the ceiling broke. The force of it sent Sirius tumbling backwards on his broom, and he tried desperately to regain control. As he managed to right himself, his eyes fixed on James, and his heart stopped.

James had been thrown from his broom when the spell broke, and was falling helplessly to the ground, and to his death if Sirius didn't do something. He pressed himself flat against his broom and zoomed toward James, who was rapidly approaching the floor. Even though he was sure he was flying faster than he ever had before, Sirius didn't seem to be catching up to James fast enough, and he tried to think, pulling his wand from the pocket of his dressing gown.

"Wingardium... wingardium leviosa! Wingardium leviosa! WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he yelled, but his hands were shaking and he couldn't aim properly, instead missing James each time.

Cursing, Sirius shoved his wand back in his pocket and focused on flying faster, he was getting close, and he let silent prayers flow through his mind that he would reach his best friend in time. He was ten metres away from James, but James was only six from the floor, and Sirius tried to push forward faster. Seven metres away... five metres... three... he stretched out his arms and reached for James, his heart racing. He had barely wrapped his arms around James' body and heaved it upward away from its rapid descent when he realized that his trajectory was not much better as he sped toward the dais where the staff table stood. He tried desperately to redirect his broom, but it was taking all of his strength to hold onto James. Instead, Sirius folded himself in, curling around James as much as he could, trying to protect his friend as he braced himself for the crash.

It was worse than he expected. They hit the dais and he felt his bones shattering against the sandstone blocks, pain radiating through his body. He kept himself focused on James and struggled to fight the pain in his body in order to push himself up and off his friend, trying to assess the damage. He was unconscious, but Sirius wasn't sure if that was from the crash or if he had been knocked out by the force of the spell breaking. There were scrapes and cuts over James' face, and his pajamas were torn in several places. He was breathing though, and Sirius could feel his heart beating strong, so he knew he was alive. Fear gripped him still, knowing that James wasn't definitely going to be okay as long as his eyes remained closed. The pain was getting to be too much for Sirius, and he felt unconsciousness tugging at him as well, but he tried to fight it. He heard the doors of the Great Hall burst open and saw fuzzy figures running toward them, and he thought one of them might have been Dumbledore based on the long beard. Knowing that there was someone to help them, Sirius gave in to the pain and let his eyes close.

Sirius woke up in the hospital wing, unsurprisingly. He turned his head, wincing at the way it ached, and saw James lying in the bed next to him. He also saw Mrs. Potter asleep in a chair next to James' head, and he wondered how long they had been unconscious in the hospital wing that their parents had not only been informed of their condition, but that Mrs. Potter had felt it necessary to travel all the way to Hogwarts. Guilt coursed through him, causing his insides to twist unpleasantly, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. Sirius wondered if his own parents had come to see him, the thought making him feel even more sick, but he reminded himself that his mother would probably be happy if he stupidly got himself killed at school, not distressed, like James'.

He tried to sit up, letting out a groan as he realized how much his body still hurt, despite Madam Pomfrey's ministrations, and the sound made Mrs. Potter stir. Her eyes blinked open and she instinctively looked at her son, her face falling a bit when she realized that he was still unconscious. She smoothed down a lock of his hair and looked over at Sirius, giving him a weak smile.

"You must be James' friend," she said kindly, looking him over.

"Yeah, I'm Sirius," he answered, but he found he couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that it was his fault her son was lying in the hospital wing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sirius," she replied politely, and she stood up, looking down at her son and smoothing his hair once more. "I'll just go fetch Madam Pomfrey so she can give you a look over."

"Thanks," Sirius mumbled as Mrs. Potter walked away.

A few moments later, she returned, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey, who was wearing a stern expression on her face. The matron began busying herself around Sirius, checking his pulse and prodding his body, much to his chagrin.

"You had a lot of broken bones," she informed him as he winced, "but I've mended those. You'll be a bit sore, but no worse for the wear in the long run."

"Thank you," Sirius mumbled again, but he turned to look at his friend. "Will James...?"

"I hope he'll make a full recovery," Madam Pomfrey answered, her voice low and disapproving, "but I won't know more until he wakes up."

Sirius nodded, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. The door to the hospital wing opened and Professor McGonagall walked through, approaching Sirius with a stern expression on her face.

"Mr. Black," she said, "I'm glad to see you conscious again. We can now begin discussions on how misguided your actions were and what the consequences might be."

"Yes, Professor," he answered, staring at his hands folded in his lap.

"Are you aware that you damaged a very complex and dangerous spell that has taken considerable effort to repair and in doing so risked the lives of both yourself and your friend?" she asked.

“Yes, Professor,” Sirius said again, sullenly. He felt a deep sense of shame at Professor McGonagall’s words.

“What on earth inspired you to do something so completely idiotic?” she hissed, her voice dangerously high pitched, and Sirius was fairly certain she would be shrieking if it weren’t for James and Mrs. Potter.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he whispered, barely audible, “and we wanted to fly.”

“You couldn’t sleep so you decided to risk your lives instead,” Professor McGonagall clarified, pursing her lips until they were a barely visible line.

Sirius couldn't even bear to answer her, guilt was twisting in his gut and he felt tears stinging his eyes as he fought to keep them from spilling forth. His lip began to tremble and he twisted his hands together in his lap.

Professor McGonagall watched him carefully and saw how deeply upset he was. She couldn't exactly not punish him, but she didn't have the heart to be as harsh as she initially planned. It was clear that he was affected by his actions and the danger his best friend was in. She sighed heavily and sat down at the foot of Sirius' bed, patting him lightly on his shin.

"Because of your actions, first years have been banned from possessing broomsticks on school grounds," she said softly. "I have taken the liberty of sending your broomstick back to your parents, along with an explanation of what happened. Mr. Potter's broomstick was... well, there was not much to send home, it was rather damaged."

"He's going to be so mad," Sirius groaned, still not looking up at Professor McGonagall.

"Furthermore," she continued, "each of you will receive five detentions, to be served with myself over the course of the next month, and Gryffindor house will lose 50 points for each of you."

"Is that... is that all?" Sirius asked hesitantly, looking up at her from under his lashes.

"Idiotic though your actions may have been," Professor McGonagall answered carefully, "they were not malicious. And I believe Mr. Potter's current condition is quite a punishment for both of you."

Sirius nodded severely, taking Professor McGonagall's words to heart. He understood that they were not being punished more because the knowledge that his idea could easily have killed his best friend would be enough to torment him forever.

"Mrs. Potter," Professor McGonagall said suddenly, standing and turning to the next bed, "may I have a word outside?"

"Of course, Minerva," the other woman replied, and they both walked out of the hospital wing to speak in the hallway beyond.

Sirius idly wondered what they could be talking about that they needed more privacy, but he quickly found his mind turned to James. He looked over at his friend who was still lying as he had been, looking so peaceful. Sirius wasn't sure how long he had been watching James when he noticed some small stirring. His hands started to twitch, fingers grasping at the sheets covering him, and his head turned from side to side slightly.

"Mummy," he croaked almost inaudibly, wetting his lips.

"James?" Sirius said excitedly, watching his friend's eyes begin to blink open.

"Sirrus?" James slurred, turning his head toward the sound of his voice, though Sirius could tell that his eyes were not focused on him.

"I'm here, mate," Sirius laughed, practically giddy that his friend had woken up. "MADAM POMFREY!"

James winced slightly at the noise, but the matron came running over, and when she saw that James was awake, she beamed.

"Mr. Potter," she sighed, sounding very relieved, "how are you feeling?"

"'ve fel' better," James answered hazily, turning his head to follow the voices.

"Of course you have," she replied soothingly as she began to examine him. After several long minutes, Madam Pomfrey smiled broadly and ceased her ministrations. "You appear to be astonishingly alright, aside from a very nasty concussion. It'll take some time for your brain to heal completely, and you may have some lasting effects, but I feel comfortable in saying that you are out of the woods. I'll go tell your mother, I'm sure she'd like to see you."

Sirius let out a small whoop of joy, his heart leaping. James smiled happily, but it was clear that he didn't fully process the information he was being told. He had apologies to make, but they could wait until James was feeling better. For the moment it was enough that his best friend was awake and would be just fine in time.


End file.
